"Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. Roadside Picnic (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

"Let's go."
He started the boot. His face was calm and clear. Obviously he
understood. They're all like that, the eggheads, the most important thing
for them is to find a name for things. Until he had come up with a name, he
was too pathetic to look at--a real idiot. But now that he had some label
like graviconcentrate, he thought that he understood everything and life was
a breeze.
We passed the first nut, and the second, and a third. Tender was
sighing and shifting from foot to foot and yawning nervously--he was feeling
trapped, poor fellow. It would do him good. He'd knock off ten pounds today,
this was better than any diet. I threw a fourth nut. There was something
wrong with its trajectory. I couldn't explain what was wrong, but I sensed
that it wasn't right. I grabbed Kirill's hand.
"Hold it," I said. "Don't move an inch."
I picked up another one and threw it higher and further. There it was,
the mosquito mange! The nut flew up normally and seemed to be dropping
normally, but halfway down it was as if something pulled it to the side, and
pulled it so hard that when it landed it disappeared into the clay.
"Did you see that?" I whispered.
"Only in the movies." He was straining to see and I was afraid he'd
fall out of the boot. "Throw another one, huh?"
It was funny and sad. One! As though one would be enough! Oh, science.
So I threw eight more nuts and bolts until I knew the shape of this mange
spot. To be honest, I could have gotten by with seven, but I threw one just
for him smack into the middle, so that he could enjoy his concentrate. It
crashed into the clay like it was a ten-pound weight instead of a bolt. It
crashed and left a hole in the clay. He grunted with pleasure.
"OK," I said, "we had our fun, now let's go. Watch closely. I'm
throwing out a pathfinder, don't take your eyes off it."
So we got around the mosquito mange spot and got up on the hillock. It
was so small that it looked like a cat turd. I had never even noticed it
before. We hovered over the hillock. The asphalt was less than twenty feet
away. It was clear. I could see every blade of grass, every crack. It looked
like a snap. Just throw the nut and be on with it.
I couldn't throw the nut.
I didn't understand what was happening to me, but I just couldn't make
up my mind to throw that nut.
"What's the matter?" asked Kirill. "Why are we just standing here?"
"Wait," I said. "Just shut up."
I thought I'd toss the nut and then we'll quietly move along, like
coasting on melted butter, without disturbing a blade of grass. Thirty
seconds and we're on the asphalt. And suddenly I broke out in a sweat! My
eyes were blinded by it. And I knew that I wouldn't be throwing the nut
there. To the left, as many as you want. The road was longer that way, and
there was a bunch of pebbles that didn't seem too cozy, but I was ready to
throw in that direction. But not straight ahead. Not for anything. So I
threw the nut to the left. Kirill said nothing, turned the boot, and drove
up to the nut. Then he looked over at me. I must have looked pretty bad
because he looked away immediately.
"It's all right," I said. "The path around is faster." I tossed the