"Elgin,.Suzette.Haden.-.Star.Anchored.Star.Angered" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elgin Suzette Haden)

Star Anchored, Star Angered
Suzette Haden Elgin

[09 jan 2002Чproofed and formatted for #bookz]

Chapter One
Even when the evidence had become overwhelming, supported by so many sets of statistics and so many superbly motivated arguments that there was no ground left to stand on, teachers refused to accept the obvious truthЧthat they were not needed in the classroom. With the perfection of inexpensive two-way cable television in the 1970s even their baby-sitting function ceased to have value. The sad result was the infamous Teachers Riots of 2002, in which hundreds of teachers and administrators died and thousands more suffered serious injury.
(It is of course important to remember that "teacher," as it was used during the Industrial Age of Old Earth and well into the beginning of the Electronic Age, did not have in any but the most general sense the meaning that we give the word "Teacher" today.)
ЧEncyclopedia Galactica
Fifth Edition, Volume V, p. 1134

Harvard was so exceedingly small an asteroid that its curvature was obvious at all times. Like standing on a well-landscaped billiard ball. Coyote was not quite willing to admit that it made him nervous; on the other hand, in spite of all scientific adjustments that eliminated sensations of motion, equalized gravity, and generally kept the thing suitable for Planet & Asteroid, he had the uncomfortable sensation that it ought to be easy to fall off of. The trees, for example, had a decided tilt. Those at a distance tilted away from him.
"This world," he said to nobody, "is not flat. It is round." As was of course true of all worlds with which he was familiar, but on none of the others had he longed for a safety line.
The Student who had come up behind him must have been used to this reaction. He greeted Coyote from a distance obviously intended not to startle the already-uneasy visitor.
"After a day or two, Citizen Jones," he said soothingly, "you get used to it and it seems just as big as any other place you've ever lived. All a matter of perception, you know."
"I find that hard to believe," Coyote grumbled. He grabbed his beard, for want of anything else to hold on to, and tugged at it ferociously.
"It's true, though," said the Student, smiling at Coyote as his visitor turnedЧcarefullyЧto face him. "Unfortunately, since your visit is to be so brief, you won't have a chance to put my claim to the test."
"You're a kind of official greeting committee," Coyote said.
"A committee of one, Citizen. Here to welcome you to Multiversity Two. May your visit be productive."
Coyote had discovered that there was a certain angle, just beyond the Student's shoulder, at which he could fix his eyes without being able to see the horizon. He looked fixedly at the spot and tried smiling back.
"It's all right to be scared, you know," said the Student gently. "People always are. Why don't we go indoors where you can be more comfortable?"
"How much more ... outdoors ... is there?"
The Student waved a vague arm to the left, then to the right. "Just a park," he said. "A small waterfall, run by solar energy. An artificial lake for swimming. A few gardens."
Coyote braced himself, took his eyes away from the security spot, and looked around. Trees. Flowering hedges. Paths leading away, all leading downhill, under more trees. Wildflowers, mostly Old Earth varieties so far as he could tell, waving in tilted banks of purple, white, and gold.
"It's pretty," he said. "Prettier than Mars-Central. But I think you need guard rails all around it."
The Student grinned. "You'll come inside, then?"
Coyote nodded. "Please."
Ahead of them was a half-circle of large domes, connected by a tubular corridor, all of it the blinding white of pyroceramic, and relieved by no decoration whatsoever. Whoever had designed this institution of learning had not wanted anyone to be confused by its appearance.
"This," said the Student, leading the way toward the nearest of the domes, "is the College of Religious Science. There are one hundred and thirty Students living here."
"Why so many?"
The Student shrugged. "Religious Science is a popular major right now," he said.
"Any special reason for that, you think?"
He smiled, and Coyote realized that he was a very handsome young man in spite of the bizarre outfitЧconsisting entirely of pseudo-tattoosЧthat he was wearing. It wasn't easy to disregard the dozens of tattoos of yellow roses the Student had seen fit to apply to his person ... wreaths and garlands and swags and sprays of them, complete with leaves, thorns, and tastefully executed bees. The fact that his skin was a rich dark brown helped; Coyote assumed that white-skinned Students stuck to red roses. Out of the small spray that circled the Student's eyes and trailed artistically down his nose and over his chin looked a fine honest face, with brown eyes, a good mouth, and high strong cheekbones. All hidden among the foliage.
"Fads in majors come and go," he was saying. "Just like they do in anything else."
"Clothes, for example," Coyote observed, following him along the corridor that circled the domes.
"Clothes?"
"Mm-hmm."
"You should see some of the others."
"What?"
"If you think I'm strangely dressed, Citizen, you should see some of the others."
"It doesn't bother you to have a bee crawling up your penis?"
"What bee?"
Coyote pointed.
"That's only a tattoo, Citizen, it's not alive."
Coyote shuddered. "It would make me nervous," he said, and was rewarded by hearty laughter that indicated to him what a funny fellow he was. Him and his conservative navy blue loincloth. With a narrow white pinstripe.
He couldn't decide exactly what he thought of this corridor they were following. It showed no signs of the reckless expenditure of taxpayers' money that had been mentioned to him in his briefing for this mission. Bare synthowood floors, and rather poor imitations of washed pine, if he was any judge. Light globes suspended in suitable places. Banks of plants, an occasional sculpture flickering in a niche. Nothing ostentatious. Nothing to indicate that this was the dwelling-place of hundreds of the most brilliant citizens of the Three Galaxies.
"Where is the Dean's office?" he said abruptly, tearing his eyes away from a mobile that seemed determined to turn his head inside out. "I'd like to get this over with."
"Certainly, Citizen Jones," the Student said. "Follow the corridor on round, and you'll come to Room Thirty-nineЧthat's Citizen Dean O'Halloran's quarters. She's expecting you."
"Thank you, Citizen Student."
"Not at all. I'm pleased to have met youЧit's not every day, after all, that one meets a specialist in Twentieth-Century Ballads."