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

burnt-out bulbs, and a monkey wrench left behind. Oil slicks on the pond.
And of course, the usual mess--apple cores, candy wrappers, charred remains
of the campfire, cans, bottles, somebody's handkerchief, somebody's
penknife, torn newspapers, coins, faded Bowers picked in another meadow."
"I see. A roadside picnic."
"Precisely. A roadside picnic, on some road in the cosmos. And you ask
if they will come back."
"Let me have a smoke. Goddamn this pseudoscience! Somehow I imagined it
all differently."
"That's your right."
"So does that mean they never even noticed us?"
"Why?"
"Well, anyway, didn't pay any attention to us?"
"You know, I wouldn't be upset if I were you."
Noonan inhaled, coughed, and threw away the cigarette.
"I don't care," he said stubbornly. "It can't be. Damn you scientists!
Where do you get your contempt for man? Why are you always trying to put
mankind down?"
"Wait a minute," Valentine said. "Listen: 'You ask me what makes man
great?'" he quoted. "'That he re-created nature? That he has harnessed
cosmic forces? That in a brief time he conquered the planet and opened a
window on the universe? No! That, despite all this, he has survived and
intends to survive in the future.'"
There was a silence. Noonan was thinking.
"Don't get depressed," Valentine said kindly. "The picnic is my own
theory. And not even a theory--just a picture. The serious xenologists are
working on much more solid and flattering versions for human vanity. For
example, that there has been no Visitation yet, that it is to come. A highly
rational culture threw containers with artifacts of its civilization onto
Earth. They expect us to study the artifacts, make a giant technological
leap, and send a signal in response that will show we are ready for contact.
How do you like that one?"
"That's much better," Noonan said. "I see that there are decent people
among scientists after all."
"Here's another one. The Visitation has taken place, but it is not over
by a long shot. We are in contact even as we speak, but we are riot aware of
it. The visitors are living in the Zones and carefully observing us and
simultaneously preparing us for the 'cruel wonders of the future.' "
"Now that I can understand! At least that explains the mysterious
activity in the ruins of the factory. By the way, your picnic doesn't
explain it."
"Why doesn't it? One of the girls could have forgotten her favorite
wind-up teddy bear on the meadow."
"Just skip it. That's some teddy bear. The earth around it is shaking!
On the other hand, maybe it is somebody's teddy. How about a beer? Rosalie!
Two beers for the xenologists! You know, it really is nice chatting with
you," he said to Valentine. "Cleaning out the old brains, like pouring Epsom
salts under my skull. You know, you work and work, and lose sight of why,
and what will happen, and how you'll soothe your savage breast."
The beer came. Noonan took a sip, watching over the head of foam as