"Brian Herbert - The Race for God" - читать интересную книгу автора (Herbert Brian & Frank)

own reputation to consider."
"So you refuse to run the story?"
"I haven't decided."
"Well, I have." McMurtrey lunged his big frame up and made for the door to the street. He was ready to slam the door
through the jamb, when the editor spoke.
"Come back and sit down. I'll see what we can use."
McMurtrey looked over his shoulder, and they locked gazes.
Robbins shook his head. "Credibility you ain't got. I don't know why I'm doing this." He turned back to the computer, beg
tapping keys.
McMurtrey resumed his seat, watched black letters appear on the screen as the managing editor wrote about the visitati
Robbins paused. "NewsData says there are around nine thousand church members in your I Triple C. Do those member
know it's a scam? Are they in for the fun of it? With an acronym pronounced 'ICK' they'd have to suspect something. I'm
but a lot of details keep bothering me."
"I'm not here to discuss that," McMurtrey said. "There is a more important matter," From the correspondence he receive
was clear that most of his members believed the drivel he'd made up about D'Urth being "an egg of the Great Mother Chic
the originator of all life in the universe." A few recognized the ICCC as a spoof, to their great amusement.
"Just a couple of details before we proceed," the editor insisted. "I've got to make you sound credible. With a message fr
God, that's critical, I'd say." McMurtrey sighed. "All right."
"You started this organization out with ads—almost
twenty years ago, after you dropped out of college. Rumor
has it you didn't expect any response, that you'd been
freebasing sparkle. And voila! Checks started pouring in!"
"I wasn't on drugs!" Not when I ran the ads, anyway.
McMurtrey stared at his hands, recalled crawling around on the floor of his college dormitory room several months befo
ran the ads, looking for spilled bits of Anian sparkle. He and three buddies came up with the chicken church that uproariou
night, and before the evening was over they carried the concept to preposterous extremes. Afterward, his buddies promptl
forgot about it.
But McMurtrey didn't forget.
"You're not making this easy," Robbins said. "Your grandmother invented pickpocket-proof trousers, and I see you're we
a pair. She made a bundle, left you with a trust fund. Are you still living off it or do you need publicity?"
"What's the matter?" McMurtrey asked. "Don't you have all the answers in your precious NewsData?"
An uncomfortable pause. Then: "Okay, we'll stick to the visitation, and I'll try to make it sound plausible."
McMurtrey repeated his tale, and presently he was outside with an unseasonably warm winter breeze on his face. The a
was clean, a contrast to the mustiness of the office. He walked home through the hilly seaside town, thinking about one of
more curious comments.
"Seeker, who says religion is the way to God?"
This had rattled McMurtrey to the core when he heard it—so much so that for agonizing moments as God continued to s
McMurtrey couldn't think of a thing to say. He was turned sideways in bed, staring at a pearly, many-chambered nautilus s
that had fallen from the dresser to the carpeted floor months before. He hadn't bothered to pick it up, had hardly noticed it
before the "visitation." Frequently he didn't get around to housekeeping anyway.
But as the Leader of the Universe spoke, McMurtrey found himself staring at the shell as if he had never seen it before.
chambers displayed were so exquisitely detailed, coiling to the core where the tiny animal once lived. In its utter perfection
design brought to mind leaf patterns, spider webs, honeycombs and the flawless rippling wavelets caused by a stone droppe
a pond.
Recalling this, McMurtrey crossed a sandy field of ice plants, heading toward his modest bungalow on the other side, a ti
driftwood gray structure several houses up from the beach.
There had been something else too, something he hadn't told the editor. One statement of God's, in a voice that pulsed w
and strong, was especially provocative: "Cosmic Chickenhood is not everything. It might amount to nothing, along with
everything else."
McMurtrey chewed at one side of his upper lip.