"Mike Resnick - Barnaby in Exile" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

no grape for "lonely".
#
Today I touch the grapes that say "Barnaby wants out".
"Out of your cage?" she asks.
"Out there," I sign. "Out in the white."
"You would not like it."
"I do not like the black when I am alone," I sign. "I will
like the white."
"It is very cold," she says, "and you are not used to it."
"The white is very pretty," I say. "Barnaby wants out."
"The last time I let you out you hurt Roger," she reminds me.
"I just wanted to touch him," I say.
"You do not know your own strength," she says. "Roger is just
a rabbit, and you hurt him."
"I will be gentle this time," I say.
"I thought you didn't like Roger," she says.
"I don't like Roger," I say. "I like touching."
She reaches into the cage and tickles my belly and scratches
my back and I feel better, but then she stops.
"It is time for your lesson," she says.
"If I do it right, can you bring me something to touch?" I
ask.
"What kind of thing?" she says.
I think for a moment. "Another Barnaby," I say.
She looks sad, and doesn't answer.
#
One day Sally brings me a book filled with pictures. I smell
it and taste it. Finally I figure out that she wants me to look at
it.
There are all kinds of animals in it. I see one that looks
like Roger, but it is brown and Roger is white. And there is a
kitten, like I see through the window. And a dog, like Doctor
sometimes brings to the lab. But there is no Dino.
Then I see a picture of a boy. His hair is shorter than
Sally's, and not as gray as Doctor's, or as yellow as Bud's. But
he is smiling, and I know he must have many things to touch.
#
When Sally comes back the next morning, I have lots of
questions about the pictures. But before I can ask her, she asks
me.
"What is this?" she says, holding up a picture.
"Roger," I say.
"No," she says. "Roger is a name. What is this animal
called?"
I try to remember. "Rabbit," I say at last.
"Very good, Barnaby," she says. "And what is this?"
"Kitten," I say.
We got through the whole book.
"Where is Barnaby?" I ask.
"Barnaby is an ape," she says. "There is no picture of an ape