"Samuel R. Delany - The Ballad of Beta-2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Delaney Samuel R)

THE BALLAD OF
BETA-2
Samuel R. Delany




I

“Quite simply, the answer is—because they are there!”
White light from the helical fixture struck the sharp bones of
the professor’s face.
“But…” began Joneny.
“But, no,” the professor cut him off. They were alone in the
office. “It isn’t that simple, is it? The reason is that many of them
were once there, and they did something that had never been done
before—that will never be done again—and because remnants of
them are there now. That is why you will study them.”
“But, sir,” Joneny persisted, “that’s not what I asked. I’m
requesting a personal dispensation that will exempt me from
research work on this unit. I expect to be held accountable for all
examination questions on the Star Folk but I’m already an honors
student and, on the strength of that, I’m asking to skip the detail
work on them. I’m perfectly willing to put in the time on my thesis
topic, the Nukton Civilization of Creton III, or anything else that’s
reasonable, sir.” Then, as an afterthought, “I realize it would be a
privileged exemption that only you can grant.”
“That is quite correct,” the professor said coolly; then he
leaned forward. “On the strength of your ‘honors,’ Joneny—and
you’re more than a good student, you’re an amazing one—I’ll listen
to your objections. But I have to admit that there’s something
about your request that annoys me.”
Joneny took a breath. “I just don’t want to waste my time on
them, sir. There’s so much needed research in a field like Galactic
Anthropology; and, as far as I can see, the Star Folk are just a dead
end, with no significance at all. They were a very minor transition
factor that was eliminated from the cosmic equation even before
its purpose was achieved. Their contributions to the arts were
entirely derivative—and they produced nothing else. All that
remains of them is a barbaric little settlement, if you can call it that,
which the Federation sentimentally allows to exist out near Leffer
VI. There are too many cultures and civilizations just crying to be
researched to waste time poking through dozens of chrome-plated
eggshells, documenting the history of a—a bunch of chauvinistic,
degenerate morons. And I don’t care what anyone says, sir. That’s
all they are!”
“Well,” the professor murmured. “Well. You are vehement
on the subject.” He glanced at the screen on his desk, flicked a few
notes across it, and then looked sternly at Joneny. “I am not going
to grant your request, but I’ll tell you why. In fact, I’ll even argue