"S. A. Gorden - Eyes of an Eagle a Novel of Gravity Controlled" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gorden S A)

He looked at me mowing. I knew how good the eagle's eyes were. He could have watched me from
across the farmer's field to the east. Why did he come here? I cut the grass watching the bird as he
watched me. He tracked my movements with his eyes, across and up and down the yard. As I mowed
under the tree waiting for him to take flight, the minutes stretched to an hour and still he watched. Every
time my back was toward him, I could feel his eyes. When I couldn't stand the prickly sensation on the
back of my neck, I would twist around and there he watched with his head canted to one side.

I turned a corner with the mower and looked. He was gone! I scanned the empty sky, the far tree line
looking for the familiar shape. Why had he come? Why had he chosen me to watch? The back of my
neck tingled; I looked and saw nothing. But I felt the eyes, the eyes of an eagle watching. In my mind I
saw the raptor cock his head and fluff his feathers as he watched. What was he thinking when he
watched? Did he think me strange for staying on the ground? Or did he envy the way I easily covered the
yard? Or was there something else? Somehow I knew there was something else to those watching eyes.
****
The Chameleon was a scout infiltrator. He worked for a group known to themselves as the Users.
Referring to the Chameleon, as a he, could be wrong. The only one who still might know the gender of
the Chameleon is the Chameleon. Depending on the infiltration, the Chameleon could be a male, female,
neutral or somewhere in-between.

The Users would move into a community. After living in the neighborhood for possibly years, they would
leave, stripping it of everything they could take. This would be more than just the material wealth of the
community. The Users would scavenge the intellectual and social fabric of the society. Local companies
would be taken over and sold. Copyrights, plans, the very soul of the community would be copied and
destroyed. When the Users were done with a neighborhood, it would be a hollow shell of what it had
been. It would take decades, if ever, for the community to recover. By then the Users, richer than before,
would have sucked dry the life of other communities. Stronger, they would wait for the chance to return
to harvest the strength of the region again.

The Chameleon waited and watched learning all he could about the new objective before becoming a
member of the community. The Chameleon was a legend among the Users. He, in his various disguises,
had infiltrated dozens of communities planning their rape. The Chameleon was the only scout never to run
afoul of the local authorities. The Chameleon's existence was a lonely one. The little pleasure he took was
from the theft of the happiness of the individuals living in the community, his goal, the success of his
family, the Users.

He watched. Which gender would give him the most access to the community? Which disguise would
give him the most pleasure? Which local community was the richest?
****
I am living on the old family farm. Until last year, I lived in Chicago. My father had died five years earlier
and just last year my mother had joined him. My brother lives in New York and made it plain to my dad
that he never wanted to come back to the farm. Dad had always wanted to keep the farm in the family so
when he retired from farming he signed the land over to me with the agreement that I wouldn't move in
until both my parents were both gone.

My job is checking technical accuracy of submitted articles and manuscripts for a major
textbook/magazine publishing house in Chicago. I like my job. I like Chicago, but I couldn't stand living
there. I had worked for the company for twelve years, right out of college. I would only meet my boss
twice a year, the Christmas party and the summer Fourth of July picnic. Most of my time, I spent on the
computers or at the libraries. I was their fastest proofreader so when I suggested that I would like to