"Robert F. Young - The Garden in the Forest" - читать интересную книгу автора (Young Robert F)

He began intensifying.
The process was not enervating. A 'path of Ghan's ability could intensify for almost unlimited periods
of time without harmful aftereffects. But in order to attain the degree of concentration required, external
physical awareness had to be sacrificed.
His field expanded in concentric waves. At first he touched sentient life only in scattered sequence,
then in progressively heavier sequence, finally en masse. He focused.
A city. Complex, tiered, overcrowded. A plethoric jungle of thought patterns confronted him and he
selected one at random for an experimental trans-probe.
In the Sosterich home system, and to a lesser degree in the scattered Sosterich satrapies, telepathy
was a highly specialized art. It was thought-reading combined with analysis plus symbolical
interpretation. The process was instantaneous. When Ghan probed a subject he participated in a
dramatic representation of that subject's character.
His first subject was a man. The dominant symbol was a forest. It was a melancholic forest,
overgrown, tangled, gloomy. The man was walking along a vaguely defined trail, pausing often to glance
back over his shoulder. All he ever saw was an impassive arabesque of vines and foliage, yet he knew
without doubt that he was being followed.
The trail led somewhere, but the man did not know where. The man hated the forest. He hated the
scabrous trees with their hungry leaves that devoured the sunlight, leaving him only a pale pittance to
illumine his way along the trail. He wanted to turn and retrace his steps, but he was afraid. He was sure
that way back on the trail there had been a clearing, a clearing filled with warm sunlight. All he wanted
was to find it again, but he knew he could never find it unless he went back. All he could do was to keep
stumbling ahead, hoping that the trail did not follow a relentless straight line, hoping that it curved in a
wide circle back to the clearing, and if it did, if he found the warm safe place where the sun reached, he
promised himself he would stay there forever—
Ghan disconnected. A moment ago he had been of the opinion that the Office of Perimeter Research
had been precipitate in its judgment. It had been difficult to accept a Phase Nine culture as being anything
more than theoretical.
It was difficult no longer.
Grimly, he sought another subject. But for some reason he had trouble concentrating. A discordant
thought kept intruding, disturbing his focus. It was a strange wondering thought and it emanated from a
source that was distant and yet close by. Annoyed, he decreased the intensity of his field to minimum.
The thought came through clearly then: Who are you?
A small female of the species was standing just outside the entrance of his headquarters. Ghan
became aware of two enormous blue eyes. For some time he was aware of nothing else. Eyes in
Sosterich society were usually taken for granted; they were efficient organs that performed their intended
function and that was all they were. They were of various colors, of course: often they were green,
sometimes they were yellow, and once in a while they were brown.
But they were never blue.
Presently he saw that these eyes were part of a round white face framed with pale yellow hair. The
thought came again and this time he saw the movement of the lips and heard the sound that accompanied
it.
"Who are you?"
I am Ghan, he 'pathed.
"Ghan? What a funny name! But what are you doing in my mother's summerhouse?"
It was an unanticipated question arising from an unanticipated situation. Ghan was angry with himself.
He prided himself on his efficiency almost as much as he did on his objectivity, but for once he had
forgotten something.
But "overlooked" would have been a kinder word. After all, he was investigating a Phase Nine
culture, and the idea of a Ptsor Shield malfunctioning in a Phase Nine culture was on first thought
fantastic.