"Stephen Goldin - Herds" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goldin Stephen)

almost invisible water crnsrrng along the darkened sands of this
planet, a hundred parsecs from the place of his birth.

Something attracted his attention. Up on top of the cliffs that
were overlooking the beach at this point, a light was shining.
This must be an example of the solitary individual of the society,
set out here far from the nearest large grouping of others of its
race. Garnna floated upwards.

The light came from a small building, poorly made in
comparison with the buildings of the city but no doubt
comfortable for a single creature to dwell in. There were two
vehicles parked outside, both empty. Since the vehicles were not
automatic, it implied that there must be at least two of the aliens
inside.

Being a pure mentality Garnna went through the walls of the
cabin as though they didn't exist. Inside were two of the
creatures, talking to one another. The incident did not seem very
interesting. Garnna made a brief note of the furnishings of the
room and was about to leave when one of the creatures suddenly
attacked the other one. It grabbed at the neck of its companion
and began strangling it. Without even extending himself, Garnna
could feel the rage that was emanating from the attacking
creature. He froze. Normally the instincts of his species would
have caused him to flee the vicinity at top speed —in this case,
the speed of thought. But Garnna had undergone extensive
training in order to conquer his instincts. He had been trained to
be first, last and always an observer. He observed.
***

Reality returned slowly to Stoneham. It started with sound, a
rapid ka-thud, ka-thud, ka-thud that he recognized belatedly as
his own heart. He had never heard it so loud >efore. It seemed to
drown out the universe with its thumping. Stoneham put his
hands to his ears to hold out the noise, but it only made the
situation worse. A ringing started, too—a high-pitched tingling
like a soprano alarm clock going off inside his brain.

Then came smell. There seemed to be a queer odor in the air,
a sickly, bathroomy odor. Stains were growing at the front and
back of Stella's dress.

Taste. There was blood in his mouth, salty and tepid and
Stoneham realized he had bitten down on his own lips.

Touch. The tips of his fingers were tingling, there was a
trembling in his wrists, his biceps relaxed after having been
superhumanly taut.