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

 But not on second thought. The Shield broadcast a constant series of negative waves; an endless
repetition of the idea of not being. All that it needed in order to function was a geocentric culture, the
individuals of which wanted to believe precisely what the Shield repeatedly told them: that the alien life
form registered upon their retinas was not real.
Geocentricism was an integral part of a Phase Nine culture. However, geocentricism is a mature
immaturity, and even in a Phase Nine culture there exist certain individuals who have not yet acquired that
facility in the manipulation of transcendental logic that enables them to regard unpleasant phenomena and
either replace them with pleasanter things or reject them altogether.
"You can't stay here, you know," the little girl standing at the entrance said.
Do you think your mother would mind?
"I think she might. I don't think she'd like you, anyway. Your clothes are so funny. And your hair! It's
so long! And what makes it grow on the side of your head instead of on top?"
Ghan considered for a moment. While the small creature standing before him did not present a very
serious obstacle to his investigation, she did create a problem just the same. If he wanted to carry on his
work with maximum efficiency, he would have to find some way to keep her from intruding upon his
'pathic field.
One way would be to tell her the truth. That could serve a double purpose: if she believed him, her
curiosity would be satisfied, and if she repeated what he told her to an adult, her story would be instantly
discredited.
"I am different from you in many ways," he said, speaking aloud for better effect. "I come from
another star."
The little girl regarded him calmly with her blue, wide-open eyes. "Which star?" she asked.
"It is so far you cannot see it from this world—" He paused, watching her face, waiting for it to
betray the surprise she must be experiencing. But her face remained serene and her eyes continued to
regard him quietly out of the blue depths of her mind.
"But you can't really be so different," she said after a while. "Even if you do come from another star
and even if you do have crazy hair and talk funny, you must be like other people inside."
"Not quite like them," Ghan said.
"I mean, you must have a heart, and there must be a place in your head where you think, and—"
"I do not have a heart. You see, we function differently on the world where I live. We—" His words
trailed away. The little girl's eyes, which he had assumed were opened to their maximum circumference,
had opened even wider.
"But you must have a heart."
"But I do not have. On my world—"
"Everybody has a heart."
"No—" He paused. The blue eyes had exhibited another unexpected phase. Mist obscured them
now, and miniscule drops had begun coalescing in their corners. Then, for the first time in his life, Ghan
was bewildered.
The little girl turned and ran away.
He watched until a corner of the barn hid her from view, and for a while he considered probing her.
He decided against it. His original purpose had been merely to get rid of her. It did not matter whether
that purpose had been accomplished by design or accident. What did matter was the fact that he was
now free to continue his investigation without interruption.
And besides, idle curiosity was unbecoming in a Supreme Arbiter.
The snow around the summerhouse had taken on the bluish tinge of twilight. The temperature had
dropped perceptibly, and Ghan was reminded of cool summer nights on Sosterich IV. For an
unconventional moment he wished he were back there, reclining on the patio of his river villa, watching
the frosty stars and fondling abstruse philosophies.
Nostalgia did not become a Supreme Arbiter any more than idle curiosity did. Annoyed with himself,
he discarded it and began intensifying his field. This time he dispensed with trans-probes. As soon as his