Galaxy Science Fiction Super Pack #2. Edgar Pangborn

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ walnuts on the kitchen floor.

      He watched the scattered lights of the suburbs and tried to think of nothing. The lights were peaceful, glimmering through the trees.

      Once there had been no lights, only the flickering campfires of hunters shivering in the forest, when the world was young and sparsely planted with the seed of Man. Now the world was infected with his lights, and with the sound of his engines and the roar of his rockets. He had inherited the Earth and had filled it—too full.

      There was no escape. His rockets had touched two of the planets, but even the new worlds offered no sanctuary for the unborn. Man could have babies—if allowed—faster than he could build ships to haul them away. He could only choose between a higher death rate and a lower birth rate.

      And unborn children were not eligible to vote when Man made his choice.

      His choice had robbed his wife of a biological need, and so he made a disposable baby with which to pacify her. He gave it a tail and only half a mind, so that it could not be confused with his own occasional children.

      But Peony had only the tail. Still she was not born of the seed of Man. Strange seed, out of the jungle, warped toward the human pole, but still not human.

      *

      Norris heard a car approaching in the street. Its headlights swung along the curb, and it slowed to a halt in front of the house. A tall, slender man in a dark suit climbed out and stood for a moment, staring toward the house. He was only a shadow in the faint street light. Norris could not place him. Suddenly the man snapped on a flashlight and played it over the porch. Norris caught his breath and darted toward the kitchen. Anne stared at him questioningly, while Peony peered up from her play.

      He stooped beside her. “Listen, child!” he said quickly. “Do you know what a neutroid is?”

      She nodded slowly. “They play in cages. They don’t talk.”

      “Can you pretend you’re a neutroid?”

      “I can play neutroid. I play neutroid with Daddy sometimes, when people come to see him. He gives me candy when I play it. When can I go home?”

      “Not now. There’s a man coming to see us. Can you play neutroid for me? We’ll give you lots of candy. Just don’t talk. Pretend you’re asleep.”

      “Now?”

      “Now.” He heard the door chimes ringing.

      “Who is it?” Anne asked.

      “I don’t know. He may have the wrong house. Take Peony in the bedroom. I’ll answer it.”

      His wife caught the child-thing up in her arms and hurried away. The chimes sounded again. Norris stalked down the hall and switched on the porch-light. The visitor was an elderly man, erect in his black suit and radiating dignity. As he smiled and nodded, Norris noticed his collar. A clergyman. Must have the wrong place, Norris thought.

      “Are you Inspector Norris?”

      The agent nodded, not daring to talk.

      “I’m Father Paulson. I’m calling on behalf of a James O’Reilley. I think you know him. May I come in?”

      Grudgingly, Norris swung open the door. “If you can stand the smell of paganism, come on in.”

      The priest chuckled politely. Norris led him to the parlor and turned on the light. He waved toward a chair.

      “What’s this all about? Does O’Reilley want something?”

      Paulson smiled at the inspector’s brusque tone and settled himself in the chair. “O’Reilley is a sick man,” he said.

      The inspector frowned. “He didn’t look it to me.”

      “Sick of heart, Inspector. He came to me for advice. I couldn’t give him any. He told me the story—about this Peony. I came to have a look at her, if I may.”

      Norris said nothing for a moment. O’Reilley had better keep his mouth shut, he thought, especially around clergymen. Most of them took a dim view of the whole mutant business.

      “I didn’t think you’d associate with O’Reilley,” he said. “I thought you people excommunicated everybody that owns a neutroid. O’Reilley owns a whole shopful.”

      “That’s true. But who knows? He might get rid of his shop. May I see this neutroid?”

      “Why?”

      “O’Reilley said it could talk. Is that true or is O’Reilley suffering delusions? That’s what I came to find out.”

      “Neutroids don’t talk.”

      The priest stared at him for a time, then nodded slowly, as if approving something. “You can rest assured,” he said quietly, “that I’ll say nothing of this visit, that I’ll speak to no one about this creature.”

      Norris looked up to see his wife watching them from the doorway.

      “Get Peony,” he said.

      “It’s true then?” Paulson asked.

      “I’ll let you see for yourself.”

      Anne brought the small child-thing into the room and set her on the floor. Peony saw the visitor, chattered with fright, and bounded upon the back of the sofa to sit and scold. She was playing her game well, Norris thought.

      The priest watched her with quiet interest. “Hello, little one.”

      Peony babbled gibberish. Paulson kept his eyes on her every movement. Suddenly he said, “I just saw your daddy, Peony. He wanted me to talk to you.”

      Her babbling ceased. The spell of the game was ended. Her eyes went sober. Then she looked at Norris and pouted. “I don’t want any candy. I wanna go home.”

      Norris let out a deep breath. “I didn’t say she couldn’t talk,” he pointed out sullenly.

      “I didn’t say you did,” said Paulson. “You invited me to see for myself.”

      Anne confronted the clergyman. “What do you want?” she demanded. “The child’s death? Did you come to assure yourself that she’d be turned over to the lab? I know your kind! You’d do anything to get rid of neutroids!”

      “I came only to assure myself that O’Reilley’s sane,” Paulson told her.

      “I don’t believe you,” she snapped.

      He stared at her in wounded surprise; then he chuckled. “People used to trust the cloth. Ah, well. Listen, my child, you have us wrong. We say it’s evil to create the creatures. We say also that it’s evil to destroy them after they’re made. Not murder, exactly, but—mockery of life, perhaps. It’s the entire institution that’s evil. Do you understand? As for this small creature of O’Reilley’s—well, I hardly know what to make of her, but I certainly wouldn’t wish her—uh—d-e-a-d.”

      Peony was listening solemnly СКАЧАТЬ