"Campbell, John W Jr - Who Goes There" - читать интересную книгу автора (Campbell John W Jr)

out this way and -catches the disease."


Clark's lips curled in a twisted grin. "Sounds logical to me. If things get too bad -maybe we'd better let Blair get loose. It would save us commiting suicide.
We might also make something of a vow that if things get bad, we see that that
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does happen."
Copper laughed softly. "The last man alive in Big Magnet -wouldn't be a man," he pointed out. "Somebody's got to kill those -creatures that don't desire to kill
themselves, you know. We don't have enough thermite to do it all at once, and the decanite explosive wouldn't help much. I have an idea that even small pieces of
one of those beings would be self-sufficient."


"If," said Garry thoughtfully, "they can modify their protoplasm at will, won't they simply modify themselves to birds and fly away? They can read all about
birds, and imitate their structure without even meeting them. Or imitate, perhaps, birds of their home planet."


Copper shook his head, and helped Clark to free the dog. "Man studied birds for centures, trying to learn how to make a machine to fly like them. He never did do
the trick; his final success came when he broke away entirely and tried new methods. Knowing the general idea, and knowing the detailed structure of wing and
bone and nerve-tissue is something far, far different. And as for other-world birds, perhaps, in fact very probably, the atmospheric conditions here are so
vastly different that their birds couldn't fly. Perhaps, even, the being came from a planet like Mars with such a thin atmosphere that there were no birds."


Barclay came into the building, trailing a length of airplane control cable. "It's finished, Doc. Cosmos House can't be opened from the inside. Now where do we put
Blair?"


Copper looked toward Garry. "There wasn't any biology building. I don't know where we can isolate him."


"How about East Cache?" Garry said after a moment's thought. "Will Blair be able to look after himself -or need attention?"
"He'll be capable enough. We'll be the ones to watch out," Copper assured him grimly. "Take a stove, a couple bags of coal, necessary supplied and a few tools
to fix it up. Nobody's been there since last fall, have they?"


Garry shook his head. "If he gets noisy -I thought that might be a good idea."
Barclay hefted the tools he was carrying and looked up at Garry. "If the muttering he's doing now is any sign, he's going to sing away the night hours. And he won't
like his song."


"What's he saying?" Copper asked.
Barclay shook his head. "I didn't care to listen much. You can if you want to. But I gathered that the blasted idiot had all the dreams McReady had, and a few more.
He slept beside the thing when we stopped on the trail coming in from Secondary Magnetic, remember. He dreamt the thing was alive, and dreamt more details. And -damn
his soul -knew it wasn't all dream, or had reason to. He knew it had telepathic powers that were stirring vaguely, and that it could not only read
minds, but project thoughts. They weren't dreams, you see. They were stray thoughts that thing was broadcasting, the way Blair's broadcasting his thoguhts
now -a sort of telepathic muttering in its sleep. That's why he knew so much about its powers. I guess you and I, Doc, weren't so sensitive -if you want to
believe in telepathy."