"Frank Herbert - The Eyes of Heisenberg" - читать интересную книгу автора (Herbert Brian & Frank)

here?' Lizbeth asked. Dr Svengaard heard the pleading tone, noted the way she avoided
looking directly at the vat. All his pent-up scorn came out in his voice as she said, 'What else
is there to see, Mrs. Durant? Surely you didn't expect to see the morula.' Harvey tugged at
his wife's arm, said, 'Thank you. Doctor.' Once more, Lizbeth's eyes scanned the room,
avoiding the vat. 'Yes, thank you for showing us... this room. It helps to see how... prepared
you are for... every emergency.' He eyes focused on the sink.
'You're quite welcome, I'm sure,' Dr Svengaard said. 'Nurse Washington will provide you
with the list of permissible names. You might occupy part of your time choosing a name for
your son if you've not already done so.' He nodded to the nurse. 'See the Durants to Lounge
Five, please.'
Nurse Washington said, 'If you'll follow me, please?' She turned with that air of
overworked impatience which Svengaard suspected all nurses acquired with their diplomas.
The Durants were sucked up in her wake.
Svengaard turned back to the vat.
So much to do - Potter, the specialist from Central, due within the hour... and he wouldn't
be happy about the Durants. People had so little understanding of what the medical
profession endured. The psychological preparation of parents subtracted from time better
devoted to more important matters... and it certainly complicated the security problem.
Svengaard thought of the five 'Destroy After Reading' directives he'd received from Max
Allgood, Central's boss of T-Security during the past month. It was disturbing, as though
some new danger had set Security scurrying.
But Central insisted on the socializing with parents. The Optimen must have good reason,
Svengaard felt. Most things they did made wonderful sense. Sometimes, Svengaard knew,
he fell into a feeling of orphanage, a creature without past. All it took to shake him from the
emotional morass, though, was a moment's contemplation: 'They are the power that loves
us and cares for us.' They had the world firmly in their grip, the future planned - a place for
every man and every man in his place. Some of the old dreams - space travel, the questing
philosophies, farming of the seas - had been shelved temporarily, put aside for more
important things. The day would come, though, once they solved the unknowns behind sub-
molecular engineering.
Meanwhile, there was work for the willing - maintaining the population of workers,
suppressing deviants, husbanding the genetic pool from which even the Optimen sprang.
Svengaard swung the meson microscope over the Durant vat, adjusted for low
amplification to minimize Heisenberg interference. One more look wouldn't hurt, just on the
chance he might locate the pilot-cell and reduce Potter's problem. Even as he bent to the
scope, Svengaard knew he was rationalizing. He couldn't resist another search into this
morula which had the potential, might be shaped into an Optimum. The wondrous things
were so rare. He nicked the switch, focused.
A sigh escaped him, 'Ahhhh...'
So passive the morula at low amplification; no pulsing as it lay within the stasis - yet so
beautiful in its semi-dormancy... so little to hint that it was the arena of ancient battles.
Svengaard put a hand to the amplification controls, hesitated. High amplification posed its
dangers, but Potter could readjust minor marks of meson interference. And the big look was
very tempting.
He doubled amplification.
Again.
 Enlargement always reduced the appearance of stasis. Things moved here, and in the
unfocused distance there were flashes like the dartings of fish. Up out of the swarming arena
came the triple spiral of nucleotides. that had led him to call Potter. Almost Optiman. Almost
that beautiful perfection of form and mind that could accept the indefinite balancing of Life