"Robert A. Heinlein - Revolt in 2100 (Collected Stories)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

I had been on watch in this very spot more than a month earlier. It was the first time I
had stood guard outside the Prophet’s apartments and, while I was nervous when first
posted, at that moment I had been no more than alert against the possibility of the
warden-of-the-watch making his rounds.
That night a light had shone brightly far down the inner corridor opposite my post and I
had heard a sound of people moving; I had glanced at my wrist chrono-yes, that would
be the Virgins ministering to the Prophet... - no business of mine. Each night at ten
o’clock their watch changed-their ‘guard mount’ I called it, though I had never seen the
ceremony and never would. All that I actually knew about it was that those coming on
duty for the next twenty-four hours drew lots at that time for the privilege of personal
attendance in the sacred presence of the Prophet Incarnate.
I had listened briefly and had turned away. Perhaps a quarter of an hour later a slight
form engulfed in a dark cloak had slipped past me to the parapet, there to stand and
look at the stars. I had had my blaster out at once, then had returned it sheepishly,
seeing that it was a deaconess.
I had assumed that she was a lay deaconess; I swear that it did not occur to me that
she might be a holy deaconess. There was no rule in my order book telling me to forbid
them to come outside, but I had never heard of one doing so.
I do not think that she had seen me before I spoke to her. ‘Peace be unto you,
sister.’
She had jumped and suppressed a squeal, then had gathered her dignity to answer,
“And to you, little brother.’
It was then that I had seen on her forehead the Seal of Solomon, the mark of the
personal family of the Prophet. ‘Your pardon, Elder Sister. I did not see.’



7
‘I am not annoyed.’ It had seemed to me that she invited conversation. I knew that it
was not proper for us to converse privately; her mortal being was dedicated to the
Prophet just as her soul was the Lord’s, but I was young and lonely-and she was
young and very pretty.
‘Do you attend the Holy One this night, Elder Sister?’
She had shaken her head at that. ‘No, the honor passed me by. My lot was not
drawn.’
‘It must be a great and wonderful privilege to serve him directly.’
‘No doubt, though I cannot say of my own knowledge. My lot has never yet been
drawn.’ She had added impulsively, ‘I’m a little nervous about it. You see, I haven’t
been here long.’
Even though she .was my senior in rank, her display of feminine weakness had
touched me. ‘I am sure that you will deport yourself with credit.’
‘Thank you.’
We had gone on chatting. She had been in New Jerusalem, it developed, even less
time than had I. She had been reared on a farm in upper New York State and there
she had been sealed to the Prophet at the Albany Seminary. In turn I had told her that
1 had been born in the middle west, not fifty miles from the Well of Truth, where the
First Prophet was incarnated. I then told her that my name was John Lyle and she had
answered that she was called Sister Judith.
I had forgotten all about the warden-of-the-watch and his pesky rounds and was ready
to chat all night, when my chrono had chimed the quarter hour. ‘Oh, dear!’ Sister Judith