"Alfred Bester - Galatea Galante" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bester Alfred)

"Yes, except that I'm dressed different."
"Different? How?"
"Beads and . . . and buckskin with fringe."
They all heard Manwright gasp.
"Perhaps like . . . like a Red Indian, Galatea?"
"I never thought of that. Yes. I'm an Indian, an Indian squaw up in the mountains, and I make love to the paleface every night."
"Oh. My. God." The words were squeezed out of Manwright. "They're no dreams." Suddenly he roared, "Light! Give me light, Charles! Igor! Light!"
The brilliant lights revealed him standing and shaking, moonlight pale in shock. "Oh my God, my God, my God!" He was almost incoherent. "Dear God, what have I created?"
"Mahth-ter!"
"Reg! "
"Don't you understand? I know Claudia suspected; that's why she made Galatea tell me her dreams."


"B-but they're only dirty dreams," Galatea wailed. "What could possibly be the harm?"
"Damn you and damn me! They were not dreams. They were reality in disguise. That's the harm. That's how your dreams lock in with my nightmares, which were reality, too. Christi I've generated a monster!"
"Now calm yourself, Reg, and do try to make sense."
"I can't. There's no sense in it. There's nothing but that lunatic drop of acid I promised Valera."
"The mystery surprise in her?"
"You kept wondering what it was, Charles. Well, now you know, if you can interpret the evidence."
"What evidence?"
Manwright forced himself into a sort of thunderous control. "I dreamed I was pursued and caught by Red Indians, tied up, and ravished by a sexy squaw. I told you. Yes?"
"Yes. Interminably."
"Galatea dreams she's a Red Indian squaw, pursuing, capturing, and ravishing a paleface she desires. You heard her?"
"I heard her."
"Did she know about my dreams?"
" "
No.
"Did I know about hers?"
" "
No.
"Coincidence?"
"Possibly."
"Would you care to bet on that possibility?"
"No."
"And there you have it. Those `dreams' were sleep versions or distortions of what was really happening; something which neither of us could face awake. Galatea's been coming into my bed every night, and we've been making love."
"Impossible!"
"Is she pregnant?"
"Yes."
"And I'm Valera's lover-boy, the stud responsible. My p
God! My God!" `
"Reg, this is outlandish. Claudia, has Gally ever left her bed nights?"
NO
"There!"
"Damn it, I'm not talking about a conventional, human woman. I didn't generate one. I'm talking about an otherworld creature whose psyche is as physically real as her body, can materialize out of it, accomplish its desires, and amalgamate again. An emotional double as real as the flesh. You've pestered me about the deliberate unexpected in my programming. Well, here's the R = L x ,/ N. Galatea's a succubus."
"A what?"
"A succubus. A sexy female demon. Perfectly human by day. Completely conformist. But with the spectral power to come, like a carnal cloud, to men in their sleep, nights, and seduce them."
"No!" Galatea cried in despair. "I'm not that. I can't be."
"And she doesn't even know it. She's an unconscious demon. The laugh's on me, Charles," Manwright said ruefully. "By God, when I do glitch it's a beauty. I knock myself out programming the Perfect Popsy with an engram for Valera, and she ruins everything by switching her passion to me."
"No surprise. You're very much alike."
"I'm in no mood for jokes. And then Galatea turns out to be a succubus who doesn't know it and has her will of me in ' our sleep every night."