"Boyett-EpiphanyBeach" - читать интересную книгу автора (Boyett Stephen R)

Fifteen minutes of this is more than enough. The Creature rolls out to sea,
venting from his neck, feeling his body reawaken at the water's touch. Neck
muscles pump autonamically, engorging as water begins to circulate again.

Feeling more awake, he stands and trudges toward the shore, toward the sign on
the dune.

Oh, yeah?

The Creature curves his fingers and slashes furrows across the plywood sign. He
frowns. Once more, for effect. He slashes again and splinters rip. One slides
into the soft underside of a claw. The Creature removes it delicately with a
thumb and forefinger, then puts the injured finger in his mouth.

He bats the sign with his free hand. The post cracks and the sign falls
face-down to the dune. The Creature turns it over so that ragged claw marks face
the sky.

Let them chew on that a while.

There is night in the ocean, though a very different kind. The swimming patterns
of fish change; they become more passive, some even sleep--though their defenses
do not. Bioluminescent plankton provide ambient ghost light. Fish are much more
approachable in the small hours, and the Creature pops them into his naturally
frowning mouth like fruit off the vine. There's no true difference in the water
itself at night -- more than a few feet below the surface the temperature is
constant and currents run oblivious to surface weather -but the feel of the
water is different somehow.

The Creature has a lot on his mind and cannot sleep. That sign, for one thing.
And encounters with human beings have begun to occur too often to suit him.

This is not a cheering thought. If the humans begin building along the shore of
this lagoon, he will have to leave for wetter climes. His ability to defend
himself with his frightening appearance is in a way an invitation to invasion,
and therefore self-defeating in the long run --because if his shadow falls
across the wrong people, more will come looking for him.

The Creature doesn't want to leave. He likes it here, and over the years he's
made a good and comfortable home in his grotto. The water is almost always cool
(though certainly not as clean as it used to be); the sun is always warm (though
the air is not as clear as it used to be); the local fish are delicious (though
the ones to the north, where raw sewage is dumped, are not, and the ones to the
south, near the San Onofre nuclear power plant, are just plain weird); and
humans have not been too abundant along this stretch of coastline -- unlike the
areas to the north and south, which are positively crawling with them, not to
mention their huge unregulated cargo tankers bleeding strange chemicals into the
water.