"A Maze Of Death v1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dick Phillip K)

From memory, Maggie Walsh intoned the words which all of them knew. " 'By His appearance in history and creation, the Intercessor offered Himself as a sacrifice by which the Curse could be partially nullified. Satisfied as to the redemption of His creation by this manifestation of Himself, this signal of His great--but partial--victory, the Deity "died" and then remanifested Himself to indicate that He had overcome the Curse and hence death, and, having done this, moved up through the concentric circles back to God Himself.' And I will add another part which is pertinent. "The next--and last--period is the Day of Audit, in which the heavens will roll back like a scroll and each living thing-- and hence all creatures, both sentient man and man-like nonterrestrial organisms--will be reconciled with the original Deity, from whose unity of being everything has come (with the possible exception of the Form Destroyer).' "She paused a moment and then said, "Repeat what I say after me, all of you, either aloud or in your thoughts."
They lifted their faces and gazed straight upward, in the accepted fashion. So that the Deity could hear them more readily.
"We did not know Mr. Tallchief too well."
They all said, "We did not know Mr. Tallchief too well."
"But he seemed to be a fine man."
They all said, "But he seemed to be a fine man."
Maggie hesitated, reflected, then said, "Remove him from time and thereby make him immortal."
"Remove him from time and thereby make him immortal."
"Restore his form to that which he possessed before the Form Destroyer went to work on him."
They all said, "Restore his form to that--" They broke off. Dr. Milton Babble had come into the briefing room, looking ruffled.
"We must finish the prayer," Maggie said.
"You can finish it some other time," Dr. Babble said. "I've been able to determine the cause of death." He consulted several sheets of paper which he had brought along. "Cause of death: vast inflammation of the bronchial passages, due to an unnatural amount of histamine in the blood, resulting in a stricture of the trachea; exact cause of death was suffocation as reaction to a heterogenic allergen. He must have been stung by an insect or brushed against a plant while he was unloading his noser. An insect or plant containing a substance to which he was violently allergic. Remember how sick Susie Smart was her first week here, from brushing against one of the nettle-like bushes? And Kosler." He gestured in the direction of the elderly custodian. "If he hadn't gotten to me as quick as he did he would be dead, too. With Tallchief the situation was against us; he had gone out by himself, at night, and there was no one around to react to his plight. He died alone, but if we had been there he could have been saved."
After a pause Roberta Rockingham, seated, with a huge rug over her lap, said, "Why, I think that's ever so much more encouraging than our own speculation. It would appear that no one is trying to kill us . . . which is really quite wonderful, don't you think?" She gazed around at them, straining to hear if any had spoken.
"Evidently," Wade Frazer said remotely, with a private grimace.
"Babble," Ignatz Thugg said, "we voted without you."
"Good grief," Betty Jo Berm said. "That's so. We'll have to vote again."
"You selected one of us as a leader?" Babble said. "Without letting me exercise my own personal involvement? Who did you decide on?"
"On me," Glen Belsnor said.
Babble consulted with himself. "It's all right as far as I'm concerned," he said at last, "to have Glen as our leader."
"He won by three votes," Susie Smart said.
Babble nodded. "In any case I'm satisfied."
Seth Morley walked over to Babble, faced him and said, "You're sure that was the cause of death?"
"Beyond doubt. I have equipment which can determine--"
"Did you find an insect bite-mark on him anywhere?"
"Actually no," Babble said.
"A possible spot where a plant leaf might have speared him?"
"No," Babble said, "but that isn't an important aspect of such a determination. Some of the insects here are so small that any sting-spot or bite-spot wouldn't be visible without a microscopic examination, and that would take days."
"But you're satisfied," Belsnor said, also coming up; he stood with his arms folded, rocking back and forth on his heels.
"Absolutely." Babble nodded vigorously.
"You know what it would mean if you're wrong."
"How? Explain."
"Oh Christ, Babble," Susie Smart said, "it's obvious. If someone or something deliberately killed him then we're in just as much danger as he was--possibly. But if an insect stung him--"
"That's what it was," Babble said. "An insect stung him." His ears had turned bright carmen with stubborn, irritable anger. "Do you think this is my first autopsy? That I'm not capable of handling pathology-report instrumentation that I've handled all my adult life?" He glared at Susie Smart. "Miss Dumb," he said.
"Come on, Babble," Tony Dunkelwelt said.
"It's Dr. Babble to you, sonny," Babble said. Nothing is changed, Seth Morley said to himself. We are as we were, a mob of twelve people. And it may destroy us. End forever our various separate lives.
"I feel a vast amount of relief," Susie Smart said, coming up beside him and Mary. "I guess we were becoming paranoid; we thought everyone was after us, trying to kill us."
Thinking about Ben Tallchief--and his last encounter with him--Morley felt no sympathetic resonance within him to her newly refreshed attitude. "A man is dead," he said.
"We barely knew him. In fact we didn't know him at all."
"True," Morley said. Maybe it's because I feel so much personal guilt. "Maybe I did it," he said aloud to her.
"A bug did it," Mary said.
"May we finish the prayer, now?" Maggie Walsh said. Seth Morley said to her, "How come we need to shoot a petition-prayer eighty thousand miles up from the planet's surface, but this sort of prayer can be done without electronic help?" I know the answer, he said to himself. This prayer now--it really doesn't matter to us if it's heard. It is merely a ceremony, this prayer. The other one was different. The other time we needed something for ourselves, not for Tallchief. Thinking this he felt more gloomy than ever. "I'll see you later," he said aloud to Mary. "I'm going to go unpack the boxes I've brought from our noser."
"But don't go near the nosers," Mary warned him. "Until tomorrow; until we have time to scout out the plant or bug--"
"I won't be outdoors," Morley agreed. "I'll go directly to our quarters." He strode from the briefing room out into the compound. A moment later he was ascending the steps to the porch of their joint living quarters.


I'll ask The Book, Seth Morley said to hmself. He rummaged through several cartons and at last found his copy of _How I Rose From the Dead in My Spare Time and So Can You_. Seated, he held it on his lap, placed both hands on it, shut his eyes, turned his face upward and said, "Who or what killed Ben Tallchief?"
He then, eyes shut, opened the book to a page at random, put his finger at one exact spot, and opened his eyes.
His finger rested on: the Form Destroyer.
That doesn't tell us much, he reflected. All death comes as a result of a deterioration of form, due to the activity of the Form Destroyer.
And yet it scared him.