"Dickson, Gordon - Stranger Txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dickson Gordon R)

"True. I too..." Egbert lowered his voice. "Let us speak off the record, James. Unscientific as it must be for only two observers to compare notes—tell me:

You haven't seen any evidence of pyramid building here in North America?"

"N-no..." answered James cautiously. "I have seen some rather odd structures—but no true pyramid."

"Thank heaven for that," said Egbert, with a sigh of relief. "Nor have I. Not that our two unofficial observations mean anything, but they represent a straw in the wind, a hope, James, that what you and I have seen mirrors the Big Picture, and that H. Sapiens is still, essentially, a happy herdsman."

"Still," said James doubtfully, "if I were to venture a guess pn my own—"

"James!" reproved Egbert, shocked. "This is unsnaillike. Put such thoughts from your mind. No, no, rest assured that we have some few thousands of years still in which to contact H. Sapiens if the race is to be taught how to zzitz and so protect itself and its planet from Them. Reassure yourself that it is merely a matter of contacting the right individual, one who will believe us and who in turn will be believed by his fellows."

For a moment silence hung heavy between the two snails.

"Some people," said James finally, in an apologetic voice, "might call us slow."

"Oh, no!" cried Egbert, profoundly shocked. "Surely not!"

"And perhaps," continued James, his voice strengthening, "who knows but what we actually may be a bit slow? I want to be fair about this. I will be fair about this! Think, Egbert: it has been at least twenty planets, one after the other, which we have seen blown from beneath us, and their native life destroyed by Them in spite of all our good intentions about teaching that native life to protect itself by zzitzing."

"But—"

"But me no buts. Egbert! Twenty chances we have had to protect the weak and defenseless. Twenty times—in a row—we have been just a little bit late in giving aid. And I say to you, Egbert, here and now, that if by following our traditional cautious methods we again slip up and see the human race destroyed, then, by all that's holy, we are a trifle slow!"

"James," breathed Egbert, shrinking back in awe. "Such energy! Such fire! You are a Snail Transformed!"

And, indeed, James was. Quivering with righteous indignation, he had reared up a full three-quarters of an inch above the surface of the brick and both sets of his horns stuck out rigidly, as if challenging the universe.

"Egbert," he said fiercely, "the tradition of eons is about to be broken. You have spoken of several thousand years in which to contact H. Sapiens. Know, Egbert, that the far end of this brick touches the sill of a window, that that sill overhangs a desk, and that at that desk sits a man high in the councils of the Five Indian Nations, or the United Nations, or some such important organization. This man I have been observing and I have discovered in him the capability to understand and believe the threat that They will pose to his race, if that self-same race continues this mad plunge of progress which has just recently brought forth the invention of the wheel."

"James!" gasped Egbert. "You mean... ? You wouldn't... ? Not without first submitting a report for the consideration of other snails, the formation of an investigative forum, the collection of an adequate number of blanketing reports, a general referendum—"

"Cease, Egbert!" interrupted James sternly. "I would, and I will. What you and other Snails have always refused to recognize is the impermanence of the individual H. Sapiens. They are here today, and—if I may coin a phrase—gone tomorrow." The tone of his voice changed. A note almost of pleading crept into it. "Can't you understand, Egbert, that this is a crisis' We can't afford to waste a thousand years here and a thousand years there just to make the matter official."

"But scientific method—" began Egbert.

"Scientific method, bosh!" retorted James, crudely. Egbert gasped. "What good was scientific method to the life forms of the last twenty planets we've inhabited?"

Egbert was struck dumb. It was a good twenty minutes before he managed to answer.

"Why—" he said at last. "I never thought of that. That's true, it didn't help them much, did it?" He stared at James with wonder and admiration dawning in the little eye at the tip of each of his two major horns. "But James—" he said. "To flout tradition in this fashion—to throw off at one fell swoop the agewelded bonds of ancient custom and established means. Why, James"—he went on, falling, as all Snails do when deeply moved, into iambic pentameter—"this step will sound throughout the halls of time; and through the echoing vault of universe, be duplicated to infinity. So that all future ages, hearing it, and looking back, will wonder how you could. And tell me James, how is it that you can?"

James bowed his horns in graceful acknowledgment of the question.

"I am," he replied simply, "what you might possibly characterize as a humanitarian."

"Ah," said Egbert softly, "so that's it."

"Yes," answered James. "And now—my duty calls. Farewell, Egbert."