"Kim Stanley Robinson - Mars 3 - Green Mars" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Kim Stanley)

“It’s not explained,” he would say, frowning. “Not yet.”

And so the good mornings with Sax would pass; and both he and the kids seemed to agree that these
were better than the bad mornings, when he would drone on uninterrupted, and protest “This is really a
very important matter” as he turned from the blackboard and saw a crop of heads laid out snoring on the
desktops.



* * *



One morning, thinking about Sax’s frown, Nirgal stayed behind in the school until he and Sax were the
only ones left, and then he said, “Why don’t you like it when you can’t say why?”

The frown returned. After a long silence Sax said slowly, “I try to understand. I pay attention to things,
you see, very closely. As closely as I can. Concentrating on the specificity of every moment. And I want
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to understand why it happens the way it does. I’m curious. And I think that everything happens for a
reason. Everything. So, we should be able to tease these reasons out. When we can’t ... well. I don’t like
it. It vexes me. Sometimes I call it”—he glanced at Nirgal shyly, and Nirgal saw that he had never told
this to anyone before—”I call it the Great Unexplainable.”

It was the white world, Nirgal saw suddenly. The white world inside the green, the opposite of Hiroko’s
green world inside the white. And they had opposite feelings about them. Looking from the green side,
when Hiroko confronted something mysterious, she loved it and it made her happy—it was viriditas, a
holy power. Looking from the white side, when Sax confronted something mysterious, it was the Great
Unexplainable, dangerous and awful. He was interested in the true, while Hiroko was interested in the
real. Or perhaps it was the other way around—those words were tricky. Better to say she loved the
green world, he the white.

“But yes!” Michel said when Nirgal mentioned this observation to him. “Very good, Nirgal. Your sight
has such insight. In archetypal terminologies we might call green and white the Mystic and the Scientist.
Both extremely powerful figures, as you see. But what we need, if you ask me, is a combination of the
two, which we call the Alchemist.”

The green and the white.



Afternoons the children were free to do what they wanted, and sometimes they stayed with the day’s
teacher, but more often they ran on the beach or played in the village, which lay nestled in its cluster of
low hills, halfway between the lake and the tunnel entrance. They climbed the spiraling staircases of the
big bamboo treehouses, and played hide and seek among the stacked rooms and the daughter shoots