"Asimov Isaac - Gold, The Final Science Fiction Collection" - читать интересную книгу автора (Asimov Isaac)

„Relax,“ said Sam.
Slowly, the Other Sam slumped, flopping a bit to one side, then correcting that.
Sam was relieved. With the Other Sam so willing to follow his lead, he was sure good will was involved. It was! Exactly!
„No,“ said Sam. „I said, not so fast. Don't go by my thoughts. Let me speak out loud, even if you can't hear me. Then adjust my thoughts, so I'll know it's an adjustment. Do you understand?“
He waited a moment and was then sure the Other Sam understood.
Ah, the answer had come, but not right away. Good! „Why do you appear to people?“ asked Sam.
He stared earnestly at the Other Sam, and knew that the Other Sam wanted to communicate with people, but had failed.
No answer to that question had really been required. The answer was obvious. But then, why had they failed?
He put it in words. „Why did you fail? You are successfully communicating with me.“
Sam was beginning to learn how to understand the alien manifestation. It was as if his mind were adapting itself to a new technique of communication, just as it would adapt itself to a new language. Or was Other Sam influencing Sam’s mind and teaching him the method without Sam even knowing it was being done?
Sam found himself emptying his mind of immediate thoughts. After he asked his question, he just let his eyes focus at nothing and his eyelids droop, as though he were about to drop off to sleep, and then he knew the answer. There was a little clicking, or something, in his mind, a signal that showed him something had been put in from outside.
He now knew, for instance, that the Other Sam’s previous attempts at communication had failed because the people to whom it had appeared had been frightened. They had doubted their own sanity. And because they feared, their minds...tightened. Their minds would not receive. The attempts at communication gradually diminished, though they had never entirely stopped.
„But you’re communicating with me,“ said Sam.
Sam was different from all the rest. He had not been afraid.
„Couldn’t you have made them not afraid first? Then talked to them?„
It wouldn’t work. The fear-filled mind resisted all. An attempt to change might damage. It would be wrong to damage a thinking mind. There had been one such attempt, but it had not worked.
„What is it you are trying to communicate, Other Sam?“
A wish to be left alone. Despair!
Despair was more than a thought; it was an emotion; it was a frightening sensation. Sam felt despair wash over him intensely, heavily--and yet it was not part of himself. He felt despair on the surface of his mind, keenly, but underneath it, where his own mind was, he was free of it.
Sam said, wonderingly, „It seems to me as though you’re giving up. Why? We’re not interfering with you?“
Human beings had built the Dome, cleared a large area of all planetary life and substituted their own. And once the neutron star had its power station--once floods of energy moved outward through hyperspace to power-thirsty worlds--more power stations would be built and still more. Then what would happen to Home. (There must be a name for the planet that the Other Sam used but the only thought Sam found in his mind was Home and, underneath that, the thought: ours--ours--ours--)
This planet was the nearest convenient base to the neutron star. It would be flooded with more and more people, more and more Domes, and their Home would be destroyed.
„But you could change our minds if you had to, even if you damaged a few, couldn’t you?“
If they tried, people would find them dangerous. People would work out what was happening. Ships would approach, and from a distance, use weapons to destroy the life on Home, and then bring in People-life instead. This could be seen in the people’s minds. People had a violent history; they would stop at nothing.
„But what can I do?“ said Sam. „I’m just an apprentice. I’ve just been here a few days. What can I do?“
Fear. Despair.
There were no thoughts that Sam could work out, just the numbing layer of fear and despair.
He felt moved. It was such a peaceful world. They threatened nobody. They didn’t even hurt minds when they could.
It wasn’t their fault they were conveniently near a neutron star. It wasn’t their fault they were in the way of expanding humanity.
He said, „Let me think.“
He thought, and there was the feeling of another mind watching. Sometimes his thoughts skipped forward and he recognized a suggestion from outside.
There came the beginning of hope. Sam felt it, but wasn’t certain.
He said doubtfully, ‘‘I’ll try.“
He looked at the time-strip on his wrist and jumped a little. Far more time had passed than he had realized. His three hours were nearly up. „I must go back now,“ he said.
He opened his lunch hamper and removed the small thermos of water, drank from it thirstily, and emptied it. He placed the empty thermos under one arm. He removed the wrappings of the sandwich and stuffed it in his pocket.
The Other Sam wavered and turned smoky. The smoke thinned, dispersed and was gone.
Sam closed the hamper, swung its strap over his shoulder again and turned toward the Dome.
His heart was hammering. Would he have the courage to go through with his plan? And if he did, would it work?

When Sam entered the Dome, the Corridor-Master was waiting for him and said, as he looked ostentatiously at his own timestrip, „You shaved it rather fine, didn’t you?“
Sam’s lips tightened and he tried not to sound insolent. „I had three hours, sir.“
„And you took two hours and fifty-eight minutes.“
„That’s less than three hours, sir.“
„Hmm.“ The Corridor-Master was cold and unfriendly. „Dr. Gentry would like to see you.“
„Yes, sir. What for?“
„He didn’t tell me. But I don’t like you cutting it that fine your first time out, Chase. And I don’t like your attitude either, and I don’t like an officer of the Dome wanting to see you. I’m just going to tell you once, Chase--if you’re a troublemaker, I won’t want you in this Corridor. Do you understand?“
„Yes, sir. But what trouble have I made?“
„We’ll find that out soon enough.“

Sam had not seen Donald Gentry since their one and only meeting the day the young apprentice had reached the Dome. Gentry still seemed good natured and kindly, and there was nothing in his voice to indicate anything else. He sat in a chair behind his desk, and Sam stood before it, his hamper still bumping his shoulder blade.