"Stephen Goldin - The Last Ghost & Other Stories" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goldin Stephen)

volunteer for this mission, or did Java-10 command it? Ah, notice how he fidgets. This wasn't your idea,
was it?"
"That has nothing to do ... "
"It has everything to do with it. Jeff, you're a puppet, a slave to that ship up there. Do a nice job, perform
your mission well, and you'll get a pat on the back, a commendation, maybe even a medal. Is that all your
life is worth to you?"
"I've got a responsibility to the Corps, to Earth."
"Screw them! What about your responsibility to good old number one? How about learning to enjov
yourself?"
"Earth needs me ... "
"Sure, like President Ferguson needs another hole in his ass." Bael looked around him. "Hey, come on
over, fellas, join the part} 7."
Fifteen other men strolled out into the open space where Ryan and Bael were seated. They came from all
directions, and their gaits were as leisurely as Bael's had been. They were the rest of the explorers who
had come to the city on previous expeditions. Ryan knew most of them, if not personally, then at least by
reputation. They had been tough, experienced men before coming to the city. Now they appeared soft,
relaxed, and well satisfied. They all greeted Bael and smiled warmly at Ryan.
"No doubt," said Bael, "you want to whip out your communicator and tell Java-10 the good news that
everyone is alive and well and gathered together here in one place."
As a matter of fact, that was exactly what Ryan wanted to do. Despite the friendly expressions on the
men's faces, he felt acute discomfort at being surrounded by sixteen deserters. He wanted more than
anything right now to hold that cold metal box in his hands, giving him the warm reassurance that there
was somebody up there who was interested in his well-being. But this conversation seemed to be turning
into a personal duel between Bael and himself, and he refused to give his adversary the satisfaction of
being right. So he said instead, "I can report later."
"Atta boy!" Bael grinned. "You're learning already. Within a couple of days, you'll be as free as any of
us."
Ryan had the uneasy feeling he had fallen into the other's trap. "But I don't have a couple of days/' he
returned spitefully. "If I don't leave here by noon tomorrow, I will be considered lost, the same as you.
And if I am, Java-10 will bomb this city to sub-atomic particles."
The other men stopped smiling. All except Bael, whose good humor appeared unshakable. "I don't
think," he said quietly, "that the city would allow that to happen."
It was Ryan's turn to be silent for a moment. "You talk as though it were a living being."
"I haven't the faintest idea whether it is or not. But after you've been here a little while, you'll begin to
wonder. It certainly knows what's going on in our minds. It acts on our thoughts and molds our dreams.
It loves us, Jeff, and it won't let anything hurt us."
A chill went up Ryan's spine. Bael was serious, as only a madman could be. He gulped and said,
"Nevertheless, I wouldn't want to be here to test its love when the bombs start falling."
"You're free to leave whenever you want/' Bael pointed out. "Nobody's going to stop you."
Ryan realized with surprise that Bael was right. He had been positive he would find some diabolical force
lurking somewhere within the city that would try to hold him here against his will. Instead, all he had found
thus far was a marvelous technology and sixteen friendly lunatics. He had not succumbed — yet — to the
insanity of the others, and he felt no odd compulsions preventing his departure. He was free to go at any
time.
"Of course," said Tashiro Surakami, one of the other explorers whom Ryan knew vaguely, "Java-10
might not be altogether happy with you if you did."
That was the rub. If he left now, he would have nothing significant to report. He had been sent to find out
why these men hadn't returned to their ships. So far, except for a few hedonistic generalizations that Bael
had mouthed, he still had no clue as to the reason. If he left the city now and went back to the ship, he
might as well never have come.