"Michael Kandel - Strange Invasion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kandel Michael)

"So we get discouraged—demoralized—by these tourists from Planet X," I said. "So everything
goes to pot for ten years, or maybe twenty. Won't the next generation pick up the ball?"
It wasn't the television that demonstrated, this time, but an entire living room wall. The pictures were
breath takingly lifelike, they were more than pictures. It was as if the wall had been replaced by a
window to other worlds. Several examples, following in quick succession, made the same point.
Apparently, the kind of demoralization caused by the Öht was so profound, it led to nothing less than
complete extinction. The ghost towns, ghost cities, and ghost suburbs that I saw were a theater only for
weeds and rodents.
"A one-in-ten shot," I said, clearing my throat, "isn't much."

BETTER, HOWEVER, THAN NOTHING

—responded the wall, in block letters.
"What are you, then?" I asked. "Superheroes giving a hand to the underdog?"

CONSERVATIONISTS

—was the answer, this time in the form of spots in the air, before my eyes.
Feeling giddy, I went outside and took a deep breath, standing on the front-door mat. It was a fine
spring day. But I didn't put my trust in anything in sight—not the fence, not the lawn, not even the warm,
yellow sun.
A squirrel flapped its tail and addressed me from a limb of the old maple near the driveway. Its
voice was deep and resonant. "The reason we cannot do more is that greater interference on our part
would bring the whole matter to the attention, eventually, of those whose attention is best avoided."
"How do you do that?" asked a lady who was passing by.
I smiled at her and shrugged.
"That's some trick," she said, stopping.
"Thank you."
She looked at me, then at the tree. (Wires? Speakers?)
I nodded, smiling. She saw, finally, that she would receive no explanation, so returned the smile and
reluctantly went on her way.
"Now, that lady," I said to myself, "would have got no farther than the spaceship. She'd be
gibbering."
A kid on a bicycle rode up the driveway, handed me a. supermarket circular from his basket, and
left. Expecting a message, I opened the circular. A sale on chicken. Wax beans, dental floss, aluminum
foil. Nothing from the aliens. I felt stupid.
Lucille drove up. She came stumbling out of the car, hair loose, face white. It alarmed me to see her
in such a state. In my life she was the one who steadied, not who needed steadying.
"They spoke to me," she gasped, gripping my shoulder.
"The watch, you mean, over the phone."
"No, the car radio! And from the signs!"
"Lucille, take one of my pills."
She shook her head. "They questioned me about you. As your doctor. About your history. Can this
really be happening?" She held on to me. "You know, Wally, this must be what it's been like for you all
these years. I don't know how you took it."
I led her in and poured her a cup of coffee. "Actually, this is not what it's been like. The usual stuff is
monsters, grinning heads, creepy things."
"Some of the Öht," remarked the refrigerator, making Lucille jump and give a strangled cry, "are
frightening to behold."
"Wally," said Lucille, "I'll have one of your pills."