"Gordon R. Dickson - MX Knows Best" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dickson Gordon R)

north out of the city to see some people.
"How far is it?" asked Allen, fitting his lean body comfortably into one of the soft chairs of the
platform.
"About forty miles," answered Galt, squinting at the horizon with the balance wheel between his big
hands. Allen looked at him.
"How come you never told me about these people before?" "Before," said Galt, "you may not have
liked MX, and you may have disliked people taking its decisions for gospel тАФbut were you ready to do
something about it?"
"No, I guess not," said Allen.
"There you are."
The platform tilted and slid off in a slightly new, more northwesterly direction.
"Who are they, anyway? Can you tell me that now?" asked Allen.
"You know them. It's Jasper Aneurine, his sister Leta ...and someone else."
Allen frowned, his thin rather good-looking face becoming even more intense than usually. He
remembered the Aneurines. They had cropped up more than once at parties with Galt, several years
back. He had not seen them since. Jasper was a silver-haired, upright man of the sort that seems to
become abruptly handsome in late middle age. Leta, who must be a good twenty years or more her
brother's junior, had not been unusually good-looking, but rather striking in her own way. Allen had been
engaged to some other girlтАФnot ConnieтАФat that time, but he remembered being strangely and almost
compulsively attracted to Leta, on the few occasions of their meetings. There was a sort of lonely,
destined air about her.
"How long," asked Allen, "have you belonged to this bunch?"
"Oh," said Galt. "Almost ten years."
"I've known you fifteen." Galt nodded. "But it wasn't just my secret."
"No," agreed Allen. "Still, ten yearsтАФall the while you've been hacking away as a trial lawyer, just
like me at my contracts, and I never took you for a revolutionary."
"I'm not," said Galt.
"Aren't you?" said Allen, and laughed a little bitterly. "Try to take MX from the people who've given
up making up their own minds, and see. The dope addict loves his drugs; the drinker loves his booze."
"Say instead," said Galt, "they can't do without them."
"Easy," said Galt, soothingly. "Easy. It's a big problem, but just a problem. That's all."
"Just a problem? How does that thing go?" demanded Allen.
"Our fathers' in their time sowed drag'on's teeth...
"...Our children know and suffer armed men. finished Galt.

THEY FLEW north and a little bit west past Scarborough, Tendale, and Cooper's City. They passed
New Berlin and veered west again toward a little suburb called Kingsdale. There they came down on the
parking pad of a private living area.
The drapes were pulled back on the living room beside the pad and a tall young woman with brown
hair and a slim, intelligent face was waiting for them. The whispering air current of the wall cooled Allen's
face for a moment as he stepped through the wall; then he was face to face with Leta Aneurine once
more.
"Leta," said Galt. "You remember Allen."
"Very well," she said. She gave him a slim, firm hand and Allen found himself holding on to it for a
short second with real thankfulness. After the desert heat and sun of Connie, this was cool water.
"I remember too," he said.
"Then I'm flattered," she answered, and turned to Galt. "Jasper and Frank are in the den."
"I'll go talk to them," said Galt. "You stay here with Leta, will you Allen?" And he stalked off,
disappearing through a wall of screen light in the back of the room.
"And what makes Galt bring you out at last to see us?" asked Leta, turning back to Allen.