"Kevin J Anderson - Scientific Romance" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anderson Kevin J)

see Earth ripe for conquest, humans as inferior cattle."
"Survival of the fittest--I'll concede that point, Wells," Huxley said.
"We must hope the Martians do not invade." He shifted back to his former
position, where he watched for further Leonids.
The two sat in silence, looking into the clear sky. Wells shivered,
partially from the cold, partially from his own thoughts.
They watched the stars fall as the red eye of Mars blinked balefully at
them.

The following day, in the bustling laboratory section of Huxley's biology
course, Wells felt feverish. He wondered if he had caught a chill from the
previous night's vigil.
Nevertheless, the sounds of clacking beakers, the smell of old chemical
experiments, and the chatter of students engaged his mind. He soon became
totally absorbed in the setting up of microscopes and experimental
apparatus for the morning's exercise.
One of Huxley's assistants--a demonstrator who delivered occasional
lectures when Huxley himself was too ill to speak--prepared the laboratory
activity. As if he were a prize French chef, he presented a pot in which
he had prepared an infusion of local weeds and pond water. The resulting
murky concoction was infested with numerous fascinating microbes.
Wells's workbench partner, A. V. Jennings, was the son of a doctor. He
received a small stipend, which allowed him much greater security than
Wells, though they both lived in an unpleasant boarding house an
intellectual world away from the high atmosphere of Huxley's lecture hall.
Now, while Jennings set up their shared microscope on a narrow table
against the windows, Wells went forward with his microscope slide to
receive a drop of the precious infusion, as if it were some scientific
communion. He carefully slid a cover slip over the beer-colored droplet
and returned to where his partner had finished preparing the apparatus.
Under watery light shining through a veil of gray clouds, Wells focused
and refocused the microscope. Jennings had a sketchpad, as did Wells, to
record their observations. Wells feverishly sketched the alien-looking
creatures he observed: protozoans of all types, alien shapes with whipping
flagella, hairlike cilia vibrating in a blur ... blobby amoebas, various
strains of algae.
As Wells scrutinized the exotic creatures swarming and multiplying in the
tiny universe of a drop of water, he felt like a titan. His looming
presence stared through an eyepiece to observe the tiny struggles of pond
microorganisms....
Wells realized that the other students had stopped their conversations and
stood at attention, as if a royal presence had entered the room. Professor
T. H. Huxley had deigned to visit his laboratory this morning.
The intimidating, acerbic old man strode around the workbenches where his
students diligently studied the infinitesimal animals they found on their
microscope slides. Huxley nodded approvingly, made quiet sounds but little
conversation, and moved from station to station.
When the great man came to where Wells stood proudly beside his
microscope, Huxley said in a gruff voice, "Morning, Wells." The professor
bent over to study their slide, adjusted the focus ever so slightly as if