"Philip E. High - The Artifact" - читать интересную книгу автора (High Phillip E)

anything about Berenof?”

“Only a little but I feel the alien has faculties for selecting the best subject available for its purpose. Having
done so, it provided that subject, with a technical device which altered the owners mental abilities beyond
imagination, In short—and you may not believe this—Berenof can now construct organic life by an effort
of will.”

“You mean he can make a bloody human being—oh, come on!” Ransome was flushed and slightly
breathless.

“Not human life, no. Call it pseudo-life. If it makes it more understandable, call it an organic robot.”

Ransome thought about it, frowning. “Creation by mind power? Many scientific journals have speculated
over that possibility over the past hundred years. I can, at least, accept the idea imaginatively. Sadly, I
can also see why. No doubt the alien thing has promised Berenof the wealth of the Earth in return for his
services, but in the long run it will eat him too. Any idea where it is?”

“Roughly but I need a map, but not one of those wall things. I need a printed map which I can put my
hands on and feel.”

He found one and I ran my fingers over it. “Around here.”

“A big area that, must be a square K at least. Can you tell me more about this alien if we find it—weapon
power, for example?”

“Yes I did get that, it has only one weapon and—cheer us all up—it only needs one. It can deflect
everything , thrown stone, spear or missile. A superbomb, for example, it could probably bounce into
the center of the nearest city.”

Ransome said: “Thanks,” wearily. “Let us face it, Barret, unless we can find some answers this is the end
not from our presumed alien but from ourselves. Sooner or later some mindless high official is going to
call in the army. A massed air attack, missiles, we'll lay waste a quarter of the Earth ourselves. Is there
anything more we can do?”

“There might be but you'll have to tread on a lot of corns and bang hard on some sacred doors to get it.”

“Just tell me what you want.”

“I want everything picked up and held by forensic and like departments known to have belonged to
Berenof. Handkerchiefs, tickets, programs, pens, notes on pieces of paper, everything.”

“I can try, of course, but why? All, and every one of those articles have been through every conceivable
test known. Fingerprints, breath analysis, sweat emanations, magno-pressures, digital photo-sessions etc,
etc. There can't be a single thing on those objects left to find.”

“Chief, you are raising the very barriers that they are going to raise. They can't find anything so no one
can.”

He looked at me sharply, then he nodded. “I see your point but you've got a bloody nerve. They're not
going to like that, Barret. I have friends upstairs but the others will put you through it. If they can find an