"Aldiss, Brian - Saliva Tree, The" - читать интересную книгу автора (Aldiss Brian W)

steam engine into motion that would turn the generator that
would supply the vital spark.
"I smell the future in here," Gregory said, smiling. By now, he
had forgotten the shock of the morning.
"The future will have to get on without me. I shall be dead
by then." The farmer spoke as he walked, putting each word
reliably before the next.
"That is what you always say. You're wrongthe future is
rushing upon us."
"You ent far wrong there. Master Gregory, but I won't have
no part of it, I reckon. I'm an old man now. Here she come!"
The last exclamation was directed at a flicker of light in the
pilot bulb overhead. They stood there contemplating with
satisfaction the wonderful machinery. As steam pressure rose,
the great leather belt turned faster and faster, and the flicker in
the pilot bulb grew stronger. Although Gregory was used to a
home lit by both gas and electricity, he never felt the
excitement of it as he did here, out in the wilds, where the
nearest incandescent bulb was probably in Norwich, a great
part of a day's journey away.
Now a pale flickering radiance illuminated the room. By
contrast, everything outside looked black. Grendon nodded in
satisfaction, made some adjustments to the burners, and they
went outside.
Free from the bustle of the steam engine, they could hear the
noise the cows were making. At milking time, the animals were
usually quiet; something had upset them. The farmer ran
quickly into the milking shed, with Gregory on his heels;
The new light, radiating from a bulb hanging above the
stalls, showed the beasts of restless demeanor and rolling eye.
Bert Neckland stood as far away from the door as possible,
grasping his stick and letting his mouth hang open.
"What in blazes are you staring at, bor?" Grendon asked.
Neckland slowly shut his mouth.
"We had a scare," he said. "Something come in here."
"Did you see what it was?" Gregory asked.
"No, there weren't nothing to see. It was a ghost, that's what
it was. It came right in here and touched the cows. It touched
me too. It was a ghost."
The farmer snorted. "A tramp more like. You couldn't see
because the light wasn't on."
His man shook his head emphatically. "Light weren't that
bad. I tell you, whatever it was, it come right up to me and
touched me." He stopped, and pointed to the edge of the stall.
"Look there! See, I weren't telling you no lie, master. It was a
ghost, and there's its wet hand-print."
They crowded round and examined the worn and chewed
timber at the corner of the partition between two stalls. An
indefinite patch of moisture darkened the wood. Gregory's
thoughts went back to his experience on the pond, and again he