"Anthony,.Piers.-.Mute (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anthony Susan)

MUTE is an original publication of Avon Books. This work has never before appeared in book form.

AVON BOOKS

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The Hearst Corporation

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New York. New York 10019

Copyright й 1981, by Piers Anthony Published by arrangement with the author Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 80-69936 ISBN: 0-380-77578-6

All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Blassingame, McCauley & Wood. 225 West 34th Street, New York. New York 10122

First Avon Printing. April, 1981

AVON TRADEMARK REG. U.S. PAT. OFF. AND IN OTHER COUNTRIES. MARCA REGISTRADA, HECHO EN U.S.A.

Printed in the U.S.A. WFH 10 9 8 7 6 S

Part I MUTATION

CHAPTER 1

Knot always slept on his left side. Early in life he had tried to vary it, but long ago had given that up as futile. Normal, symmetrical repose was for normal, symmetrical people.

He put his right foot over the edge of the hammock, ready to get up. He paused, as he always did, to look at it. It was a fine, big, healthy foot, with six well-formed toes. The foot of a minimally mutant human being.

He set it on down to the floor, doing a slow barrel-roll emergence from the web. He stood and stretched. His left foot was smaller, stunted, with only four toes, but it served. His legs differed in length, but he had learned to compensate, walking with his right knee chronically bent so that he hardly bumped at all when he traveled. His hands differed from each other similarly, and his ears; it was as though nature had run out of raw material before completing him. Often he had wished for a redistribution: Хa finger moved from this hand to that one, some muscle and bone shifted from one side to the other. But he always had to remind himself that as physical mutancy went, his case was marginal. He could, with proper clothing and effort, pass for normal.

Here at the enclave, he didn't bother; his condition was really an asset that he tried to make more obvious. The real mutants were better able to accept him that way.

Knot dug out his clothing, which was tailored to his physique. The enclave had excellent handcraftsmen: a
source of personal pride to him. It was Knot's job to make the employment assignments, and this was no casual matter. This enclave had an excellent record, and this was due in large part to Knot's professional skill.

He set out for the mess hall. The dawning day outside his bunk-cube was lovely; the blue sun of Planet Nelson was striking through the green morning cloud layer, starting the strong updraft that would soon clear the sky. In the evening the process would reverse, with a visible down-draft and closure by vapor. Knot, like most residents, was fascinated by these natural color shows. No two were quite alike; the patterns and colors shifted with countless minor variables, and the shows were useful for entertainment, divination, artistic inspiration, and wagering. Holographs of them were exported commercially.

But he could not dawdle, this time; his slot for breakfast was upon him, and the mess-chief became surly when the normal flow was disrupted.

The mess-guard had four eyes. All of them focused on Knot as the man frowned. "Have you checked in at the office?" He spoke with a certain awkwardness, for he also had two tongues.

"I have," Knot said, standing so that his suit exaggerated his imbalance. No one could mistake him for a normal now, "Here is my card."

The guard perused the card. "Very well. Go in and take your ration from the counter and sit down at a green table. You do have color perception?"

"YesЧin the right eye," Knot said. "Monochrome in the leftЧ"

"Once you get established, you'll be assigned to a compatible group at a red or blue table," the guard said. "But newcomers have to eat alone, until we get to know them. We have a lot of variation here, but we're the top enclave in this region of space, and we don't like trouble."