" Perry Rhodan 0081 - (73) Spaceship of Ancestors" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

"I must speak to you, Ps-5. Only you can answer all the questions I am constantly asking myself—and
that are constantly put to me."

The psychologist frowned. "Questions…? Since when does one ask himself questions?"

"This life here poses the questions and I can understand anyone who passes them on to those in charge.
That’s us! And we are notallowed to answer."

The psychologist smiled. "Not allowed, my friend? Even if we wanted to, how could we answer? What
do we know about life? We are born here, we live and work here—and we die here when our time has
come."

"But—why? Why do we live and die? What is the meaning of our existence? Those are the questions,
Ps-5, that I have been repeatedly confronted with in the past few days. What answer should I give? I
know that questions like that are prohibited and should be reported to the Commander, but I know as
well that the Death Squad comes to everyone who asks such questions and is reported. If we follow
those orders, there would soon be no living beings in this world."

The doctor leaned forward and gazed into the eyes of the other man. "What is this world—do you know
that?"

"Nobody knows." The psychologist shook his head. Then he suddenly smiled again. "Why do you want
to know? We are born and raised in it, we receive our duties and fulfil them. Our world sustains us, it
provides us with food, drink and air to breathe, it clothes us and grants us our vacation with the women
once in a lifetime. And ultimately it provides for our quick and painless death. We should be thankful to
our world for taking such good care of us. Are you of a different opinion?"

"No, I am of the same opinion, but I want to knowwhy things are this way andwho is above us."

"Who?" The psychologist mused a moment, ceasing to smile. "The Commander, who else? He gives the
orders and he is—luckily—destined to die just as we are. That thought is comforting enough to many
people for them to die joyfully when their turn has come."

"The Commander," said the doctor calmly, "is not the one above us."

The psychologist was visibly startled. His eyes narrowed to a slit and raised apprehensively to the flutes
of the ventilator on the ceiling, as if he anticipated a surreptitious eavesdropper. A guarded expression
mixed with fear appeared on his face. "Shhh. What nonsense! You will land both of us in the converter if
you keep this up!"

Death in the atomic reactor—that was the goal of their life. No one could avoid this goal but any lack of
caution could hasten the inevitable end. The Commander was quick to serve a death sentence. And his
command was law.

The doctor brushed aside his friend’s misgivings with a wave of the hand. "Ridiculous, Ps-5! We are no
longer small children who can be seared with the converter. We are strong enough to fight back in a
pinch if they want to fetch us. I have made my provisions. Do you think I would have started this without
securing weapons?"
"Weapons?" Ps-5 asked in astonishment and with a glimmer of hope. "You know that possession of
weapons is forbidden. Besides—how should you have obtained them? No one in our world has