"Blish, James - Common Time" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blish James)

though the flood of adrenalin had prevented his noticing the
motion as he had made it. The later chillless violent, and
apparently associated with the discovery that he might die
long before the trip was completedactually had been his
body's response to a much earlier mental commandthe ab-
stract fever of interest he had felt while computing the time
differential had been responsible for it.
Obviously, he was going to have to be very careful with
apparently cold and intellectual impulses of any kindor he
would pay for them Intel with a prolonged and agonizing
glandular reaction. Nevertheless, the discovery gave him
considerable satisfaction, and Garrard allowed it free play;
it certainly could not hurt him to feel pleased for a few hours,
and the glandular pleasure might even prove helpful if it
caught him at a moment of mental depression. Six thousand
years, after all, provided a considerable number of oppor-
tunities for feeling down in the mouth; so it would be best to
encourage all pleasure moments, and let the after-reaction
last as long as it might. It would be the instants of panic, of
fear, of gloom, which he would have to regulate sternly the
moment they came into his mind; it would be those which
would otherwise plunge him into four, five, six, perhaps even
ten, Oarrard-hours of emotional inferno.
Pock.
There now, that was very good: there had been two Gar-
rard-hours which he had passed with virtually no difficulty of
any kind, and without being especially conscious of their pas-
sage. If he could really settle down and become used to this
kind of scheduling, the trip might not be as bad as he had at
first feared. Sleep would take immense bites out of it; and
during the waking periods he could put in one hell of a lot of
creative thinking. During a single day of ship time, Garrard
could get in more thinking than any philosopher of Earth
could have managed during an entire lifetime. Garrard could,
if he disciplined himself sufficiently, devote his mind for a
century to running down the consequences of a single
thought, down to the last detail, and still have millennia left
to go on to the next thought. What panoplies of pure reason
could he not have assembled by the time 6,000 years had
gone by? With sufficient concentration, he might come up
with the solution to the Problem of Evil between breakfast
and dinner of a single ship's day, and in a ship's month might
put his finger on the First Causel
Pock.
Not that Carrard was sanguine enough to expect that he
would remain logical or even sane throughout the trip. The
vista was still grim, in much of its detail. But the oppor-
tunities, too, were there. He felt a momentary regret that it
hadn't been Haertel, rather than himself, who had been given
such an opportunity