"Charles L. Harness-The New Reality" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harness Charles L)

"Very good, sir," wheezed Crush, climbing in behind the wheel. "Shall I reserve a sleeping room at the
Bureau for the evening?"
"Can't afford to sleep," grumbled Prentiss. "Desk so high now I can't see over it. Take a nap yourself,
if you want to."
"Yes, sir. If I feel the need of it, sir."
The ontologist shot a bitter glance at the back of the man's head. No, Crush wouldn't sleep, but not
because worry would keep him awake. A holdover from the days when all a Censor man had was a
sleepless curiosity and a pocket Geiger, Crush was serenely untroubled by the dangerous and
unfathomable implications of philosophical nucleonics. For Crush, "ontology" was just another definition
in the dictionary: "The science of reality."
The little aide could never grasp the idea that unless a sane world-wide pattern of nucleonic
investigation were followed, some one in Australia-- or next door-- might one day throw a switch and
alter the shape of that reality. That's what made Crush so valuable; he just didn't know enough to be
afraid.
***


Prentiss had clipped the hairs from his nostrils and so far had breathed complete silence. But now, as
that cavernous face was turned toward where he lay stomach-to-earth in the sheltering darkness, his
lungs convulsed in an audible gasp.
The mild, polite, somewhat abstracted academic features of Professor Luce were transformed. The
face beyond the lab window was now flushed with blood, the thin lips were drawn back in soundless
demoniac amusement, the sunken black eyes were dancing with red pinpoints of flame.
By brute will the ontologist forced his attention back to the rat.
Four times in the past few minutes he had watched the animal run down an inclined chute until it
reached a fork, choose one fork, receive what must be a nerve-shattering electric shock, and then be
replaced in the chute-beginning for the next run. No matter which alternative fork was chosen, the animal
always had been shocked into convulsions.
On this fifth run the rat, despite needling blasts of compressed air from the chute walls, was slowing
down. Just before it reached the fork it stopped completely.
The air jets struck at it again, and little cones of up-ended gray fur danced on its rump and flanks.
It gradually ceased to tremble; its respiration dropped to normal. It seemed to Prentiss that its eyes
were shut.
The air jets lashed out again. It gave no notice, but just lay there, quiescent, in a near coma.
As he peered into the window, Prentiss saw the tall man walk languidly over to the little animal and run
a long hooklike forefinger over its back. No reaction. The professor then said something, evidently in a
soft slurred voice, for Prentiss had difficulty in reading his lips.
"-- and both alternatives are wrong for you, but you must do something, you hesitate, don't you, little
one? You slow down and you are lost. You are no longer a rat. Do you know what the universe would
be like if a photon should slow down? You don't? Have you ever taken a bite out of a balloon, little
friend? Just the tiniest possible bite?"
Prentiss cursed. The professor had turned and was walking toward the cages with the animal, and
although he was apparently still talking, his lips were no longer visible.
After re-latching the cage door the professor walked toward the lab entrance, glanced carefully
around the room, and then, as he was reaching for the light switch, looked toward Prentiss' window.
For a moment the investigator was convinced that by some nameless power the professor was looking
into the darkness, straight into his eyes.
He exhaled slowly. It was preposterous.
The room was plunged in darkness.
The investigator blinked and closed his eyes. He wouldn't really have to worry until he heard the lab