"Samuel R. Delany - The Star Pit" - читать интересную книгу автора (Delaney Samuel R)

Vyme? Oh, it's a golden!" And before me, dizzying tides of yellow.

"Put him down, put him down quick and let's see what's wrong!" Hundreds of eyes, spotlights, glittering
lenses; I lowered him to the mattress in the corner. "Ohhh . . ." breathed Alegra.

And the golden lay on orange silk pillows in a teak barge drawn by swans, accompanied by flutes and
drums.

"Where did you find him?" she hissed, circling against the ivory moon on her broom. We watched the
glowing barge, hundreds of feet below, sliding down the silvered waters between the crags.

"We just picked him up off the street," Ratlit said. "Vyme thought he was drunk. But he don't smell."

"Was he laughing?" Alegra asked. Laughter rolled and broke on the rocks.

"Yeah," Ratlit said. "Just before he collapsed."

"Then he must be from the Un-dok expedition that just got back." Mosquitoes darted at us through wet
fronds. The insects reeled among the leaves, upsetting droplets that fell like glass as, barely visible
beyond the palms, the barge drifted on the bright, sweltering river.

"That's right," I said, backpaddling frantically to avoid a hippopotamus that threatened to upset my
kayak. "I'd forgotten they'd just come in."

"Okay," Ratlit's breath clouded his lips. "I'm out of it. Let me in. Where did they come back from?" The
snow hissed beneath the runners, as we looked after the barge, nearly at the white horizon.

"Un-dok, of course," Alegra said. The barking grew fainter. тАЬWhere did you think?"

White eclipsed to black, and the barge was a spot gleaming in galactic night, flown on by laboring
comets.

"Un-dok is the furthest galaxy reached yet," I told Ratlit. "They just got back last week."

"Sick," Alegra added.

I dug my fingers against my abdomen to grab the pain.

"They all came back sickтАФ"

Fever heated blood-bubbles in my eyes: I slipped to the ground, my mouth wide, my tongue like paper
on my lips . . .
Ratlit coughed. "All right, Alegra. Cut it out! You don't have to be so dramatic!"

"Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry Ratty, Vyme." Coolth, water. Nausea swept away as solicitous nurses hastily
put the pieces back together until everything was beautiful, or so austerely horrible it could be
appreciated as beauty. "Anyway," she went on, "they came back with some sort of disease they picked
up out there. Apparently it's not contagious, but they're stuck with it for the rest of their lives. Every few
days they suddenly have a blackout. It's preceded by a fit of hysterics. It's just one of those stupid things
they can't do anything about yet. It doesn't hurt their being golden."