"(Brian Aldiss)-Outside" - читать интересную книгу автора (Aldiss Brian W)

companions; if they never spoke about outside, did they think about it?
Uneasily, Harley moved about the room; the parquet floor echoed the
indecision of his footsteps. He had walked into the billiards room. Now he
prodded the balls across the green cloth with one finger, preyed on by
conflicting intentions. The white spheres touched and rolled apart. That
was how the two halves of his mind worked. Irreconcilables: he should stay
here and conform; he should - not stay here (remembering no time when he
was not here, Harley could frame the second idea no more clearly than
that). Another point of pain was that "here" and "not here" seemed to be
not two halves of a homogeneous whole, but two dissonances.
The ivory slid wearily into a pocket. He decided. He would not sleep
in his room tonight.
They came from the various parts of the house to share a bedtime
drink. By tacit consent the cards had been postponed until some other
time: there was, after all, so much other time.
They talked about the slight nothings that comprised their day, the
model of one of the rooms that Calvin was building and May furnishing, the
faulty light in the upper corridor which came on too slowly. They were
subdued. It was time once more to sleep, and in that sleep who knew what
dreams might come? But they WOULD sleep. Harley knew - wondering if the
others also knew - that with the darkness which descended as they climbed
into bed would come an undeniable command to sleep.
He stood tensely just inside his bedroom door, intensely aware of the
unorthodoxy of his behaviour. His head hammered painfully and he pressed a
cold hand against his temple. He heard the others go one by one to their
separate rooms. Pief called good night to him; Harley replied. Silence
fell.
Now!
As he stepped nervously into the passage, the light came on. Yes, it
was slow - reluctant. His heart pumped. He was committed. He did not know
what he was going to do or what was going to happen, but he was committed.
The compulsion to sleep had been avoided. Now he had to hide, and wait.
It is not easy to hide when a light signal follows wherever you go.
But by entering a recess which led to a disused room, opening the door
slightly and crouching in the doorway, Harley found the faulty landing
light dimmed off and left him in the dark.
He was neither happy nor comfortable. His brain seethed in a conflict
he hardly understood. He was alarmed to think he had broken the rules and
frightened of the creaking darkness about him. But the suspense did not
last for long.
The corridor light came back on. Jagger was leaving his bedroom,
taking no precaution to be silent. The door swung loudly shut behind him.
Harley caught a glimpse of his face before he turned and made for the
stairs: he looked noncommittal but serene - like a man going off duty. He
went downstairs in bouncy, jaunty fashion.
Jagger should have been in bed asleep. A law of nature had been
defied.
Unhesitatingly, Harley followed. He had been prepared for something
and something had happened, but his flesh crawled with fright. The
light-headed notion came to him that he might disintegrate with fear. All