"Robert F. Young - O Little Town of Bethlehem II" - читать интересную книгу автора (Young Robert F)

outside the settlement. We walk through its morning shadow. Its rusted hull bespeaks the fact that it is
here to stay, just as we are, and will never again see Earth.
In the strict sense of the word, McMullen turkeys aren't true turkeys, but they look enough like them
to rate the name, and, when roasted, taste almost the same. Despite their ungainly bodies, they're so fleet
of wing none of the colonists has as yet been able to bag one, but the Stoops, using nothing but primitive
bows and arrows, bring them down with ease.
In the Stooptown we make our wishes known. By signs, of course, since we can't speak the Stoop
language. The Chief, who, like all the members of his race, is bent slightly forward at the waist, summons
two of his hunters. We show them the bright-colored pieces of polyester cloth we brought with us and
they feel of the material with their dirty fingers and peer at it closely with their sad, brown eyes. The
Advance Team classified Stoops as human beings, and despite their awkward posture, they aren't
particularly unpleasant to look at, although they're a dirty white in color. Not only are all the adults
stooped over, the children are too. Centuries of working in the fields turned what once was an unnatural
deformity into a "natural" one.
It might be said that the colonists call the natives "Stoops" because they condemn them. Nothing
could be further from the truth. We call them that because the word, logically enough, leaped into our
minds the moment we saw them.
After the hunters set forth with their bows and arrows, the Chief asks us about the "Great Tree" that
took root in our village and grew lights on its branches. One of the village boys, he "says," saw it from a
tree which he climbed in the woods. I know he's lying, that the boy must have sneaked into the colony.
This angers me, for Stoop kids are always doing this, and it angers me even more because we'd made
our own kids stay home when we trimmed the tree.
I tell him that the tree is an offering which we have made to our God so He will increase the fertility of
the women of our tribe, since it would take forever to tell him by signs the real significance of the tree,
besides which I'm not altogether certain what the significance is.
While awaiting the return of the hunters we go for a walk through the village. It consists of thatched
grass-huts, and there are dozens of ugly little animals running around that look like dogs. Presently we
come to the outskirts and look at the fields which, come spring, the Stoops will plow with their wooden
plows and then seed, mostly with grain. The soil is dark and rich, and their harvests are phenomenal.
Ironically, our own fields, despite their proximity, consist of a soil comprised mostly of clay, and all we've
been able to grow so far with any real degree of success are tomatoes.
"Just think of what we could do," Doc Rosario says, indicating the Stoop fields with a sweeping
gesture, "if we had that land!"
"Well, we ain't going to get it," Rich says bitterly.
And we aren't. Because the Stoops, having been classified as human beings, have human rights, and
ADEA made it clear to us before we left Earth that we could plant only the land which the Advance
Team had staked out for us.
I am glad when at length the hunters return. I share Rich's bitterness, as do the rest of the colonists,
and it's galling to be exposed to thousands of acres of fertile land which your own countrymen have
denied you. The hunters bring back three beautiful birds. We pay for them with our bright pieces of cloth
and depart.

Melissa cleans and stuffs our turkey that afternoon. Pastor Rilke pays us a visit while she's still at
work. He has decided, he says, to hold midnight services tonight, although it is generally the custom of
Neo-Protestant churches to wait till Christmas Day. But since this Christmas Eve will be the first
Christmas Eve, he is of the opinion that it would be improper to wait till tomorrow. He has discussed the
matter with Father Fardus, he says, and Father Fardus thinks it will be a grand idea for the members of
both religions to give their thanks to God at the same time. "I know there's no need to ask you if you'll be
present," Pastor Rilke concludes. "I'm merely informing you and the other members of my flock well
ahead of time so that our little church will be full."