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

"I understand," Knot said with due humility. "I'll try to conduct myself properly."

He went on in, smiling privately. He had gone through this ritual with this guard for the past year, every morningЧand with the predecessor-guard for two years before that. Knot would be alarmed if the man ever recognized him.

Breakfast was a leaf of leanfruit, the succulent foliage that was a meal in itself. An enterprising mutant had discovered how to detoxify it, at one swoop ameliorating the enclave's problem of nourishment. Knot felt pride in that, too; he had selected that mutant for that research. The man had been blind and scrawny, with reverse joints on his fingers, unable to do much useful work, but had an insatiable appetite. At another enclave he would have been a useless burden destined for an untimely accidentЧ such accidents were common in such situationsЧbut Knot had told him he could eat all he wanted if he could figure out how to avoid being poisoned by what was most available. The man had proceeded with a will, noting that no native animals died, though many consumed leanfruit. An enzyme in their saliva did the trick. Now that enzyme was routinely included in the salad dressing. The mutant had become a hero, while Knot was forgottenЧand that was the way it had to be.

Actually, the leanfruit breakthrough had not helped everyone. Some mutants could consume grass, wood shavings, or paper refuse; others were unable to digest any natural food. But the breakthrough had helped the majority, and enhanced the status of the enclave. The hero had been awarded a silver medal on a chainЧwhich was typical of the bureaucracy, since he happened to be allergic to that metal.

Knot glanced around the hall. There were twenty tables, half of them occupied. This was a small mess, its service extended efficiently by its continudus shifts of operation. There were several others, to allow reasonable segregation among mutants. These ones were minimal: extra digits, 01 distorted portions of the body, or superfluous appendages of not too gross a nature. Some did not show, as with the woman who had three livers and an extra lung; she would have been much in demand among enclave males had she not also had three reasons opposing any friendly approach.

Some of those present looked at Knot with mild curiosity, not recognizing him. He knew them all, of course, but made no show of familiarity.

After the meal Knot repaired to his office. The outdoor color show was over by this time, as it generally was. One
day he was going.to pull a string to get his breakfast slot shifted, so that he could enjoy the show as most others 4id. But it was hard to pull strings when no one remembered him.

His secretary was already bustling about. Her name was York, and she looked impressively normal. It took a second glance for newcomers to realize that her bosom was composed of three breasts. Knot wondered whether she was any relation to the woman with three livers, but decided against; there was no physical resemblance, and hi any event mutations were not hereditary. Not in that sense.

But that superficial normality could be a problem. Once York had been challenged by a surly arrival who hated normals and refused to deal with her. In a fit of pique York had ripped off her own blouse and triple halter and silenced him most effectively. There were no normals in this enclave.

"Two routine and one special," York announced with a smite. She was moderately pretty, and more than moderately smart. He wondered at times why she didn't apply for cosmetic surgery to enable her to join the normals without onus. It was permitted. Mutants, on the few occasions they conceived, gave birth to normal babies; there were no breeding restrictions, and many mutants did go under the knife so they could pass. Yet the majority did not, and this was not merely a matter of economics. A person who had been raised a mutant, identified with mutants for the rest of his life. Probably it was York's pride of the flesh; she did not want to be normal.

Actually, Knot thought, it would be a shame to mastec-tomize such a beautiful breast. She was a true mutant, not a genetic freak; her extra breast was directly between the other two and of equal size and configuration, except it was somewhat squeezed. She had quite a double cleavage, when she cared to show it! When nonmutant females had extra breasts, in contrast, they tended to be below the regular ones, like the teats on an animal, in parallel lines down the torso.

She caught biro looking. "Did we do something last night?" she inquired brightly. "I have no note of itЧ"

"No, no, my mind was drifting," Knot said quickly.

*That was evident, as was its direction of drift. Maybe tonight, thenЧ?"

"I'll take the two routines first, then the special," Knot said. "Make notes as usual."

"Of course." She knew exactly what he meant. She would listen in on the intercom and transcribe a summary of each interview for the file. She was very good at this. Her summaries were complete almost before each interview ended. If she didn't have a note on a given event, it probably hadn't happened. Which was the case with their conjectured liaison of the prior night.

The first client was a large man, whitish of skin, with reddish splotches, whose head rose into a blank and hairless dome. The ears were mere holes, the nose a double slit, and there were no eyes at all. Only the mouth was normal.

"Salutation," Knot said. "You can hear?" York's preliminary note, on the desk before him, indicated that the man could perceive sound, but it was better to establish this openly. Mutants could be sensitive about their handicaps, even among other mutants. The attitudes engendered by life among callous normals could take tune to abate.

"I can hear," the man said clearly. "I am Flas, from Planet Jeen."

"Excellent! I've heard good things of Jeen."

Of course the man challenged this, suspiciously. "What do you know of it?"

Knot was prepared; he had an excellent geographic memory, which he cultivated for just this reason. Clients were much easier to put at ease when their home worlds were complimented. "The crystal dunes on the north continent there are among the prettiest sights in the galaxy. If I ever can afford a vacation, that is where I'd go." Knot paused, artfully. "Um, 1 did not mean to refer to a sense you lack. My apology."

"Who are you?" the mutant demanded gruffly, satisfied. He was not, as Knot had surmised, sensitive about his blindness, and now he knew that Knot was indeed familiar with his home planet.

"I am Knot, the placement officer of Enclave MM58 on Planet Nelson."