"Olaf Stapledon - A Man Divided" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stapledon Olaf)

stop to examine a leaf or a beetle as though he had never seen such a thing before, or pause at a stile to run his fingers curiously,
lovingly, along the grain of the wood, or dabble his hand in a stream with childish delight, or sniff the complicated fragrance of a
handful of earth. Once, when a woodpecker called, he stood still to listen. "What's that bird?" he asked. "What a lot I miss in my
sleep-life!"




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A Man Divided




All this was notable enough in itself, but far more so to anyone who knew Victor's customary indifference to all, such
commonplace experiences. Normally his interest was almost wholly limited to motors, sport, business, feminine charm, and the
stability of society. His only other subject was human character, which he judged with a quick eye for a man's less reputable
motives, and no eye at all for his personality as a whole. This, at least, was the case with Victor in his normal mood; but if this
had been the whole Victor, I should never have grown to admire him.

I shall report as much as I can reconstruct of our memorable conversation on that walk, but probably I shall fail to convey my
vivid impression of Victor's quickened vitality and intelligence, or the sense of his anxiety to make full use of his brief spell of
lucidity while it lasted. However, I shall not miss any important facts, for I subsequently persuaded him to help me to write fairly
full notes about all that he told me.

"Well," he said, plunging at the root of the matter, "I am apparently some sort of divided personality, but a queer sort; and up to
today I have never said a word about it to anyone. My first waking up, so far as I know, was at my prep school. It was only a half-
waking, and it lasted only for a minute or I so, but it was something startlingly new to me. I had been, charged with circulating
smutty drawings, and really I hadn't even seen the things. The Head lectured me on smut and on lying, and then whacked me. The
whacking stung me into life, or stung me awake. After about the third stroke the pain suddenly became much more violent than it
had been, and I began to yell, having been the proper little silent Englishman up to that point. I bolted for the door, but the Head
caught me. For a moment we faced one another, he with a horrible look that I couldn't understand at the time, but it seemed all
wrong. It reminded me of our dog when I found him guzzling a beefsteak in the larder, growling hideously while he went on
gulping the stuff down. I was so startled by the Head's new face that I let out a throat-breaking scream, and tried to bash him on
the nose. You see, faces had been just masks before that waking, and now here was one that turned into a window with a soul
looking out of it, and a soul (I vaguely felt) in a very terrible state. I remember quite distinctly feeling all in a flash that God
almighty had turned out to be just a filthy monster. I yelled out 'Beast! Why do you like hurting me?' Then I think I must have
fainted, for I can't remember anything more. Needless to say, I was expelled."

Victor fell silent, contemplating the past with his twisted smile. When I asked him whether the waking came often after that
incident, he remained silent. We were now leaning over the rail of a footbridge above a stream, and Victor was all the while
intently watching several fishes that were dimly visible in the dark water.

"My mind," he suddenly said, "is like this stream. When I am my real self it's clear right to the bottom, with all sorts of live things
moving about at different levels. When I am that I thick-headed snob, the water is muddy. Awake, I can look down into my mind
and see every little minnow of a desire, every little sprat of a thought, busily nosing about, feeding and growing, or fading into
old age, or being hunted down and swallowed up by stronger creatures. Yes, and when I am fully awake, I can not only see them
but control them, tame them, order them, all to do as I will, make them dance to my tune; 'I' being always a something outside the