"Carol Emshwiller - The Being of It All" - читать интересную книгу автора (Emshwiller Carol)

I put on my big hat, and we go back to that same mountain. I'm pretty sure the voice
has to be in a storm. It's a sunny day now, but you never know on the mountains.
Storms come up suddenly. Maybe we'll be lucky.

When I'm almost all the way up, I see a man climbing in front of me.

I hope he's not going all the way. If the voice does come again, which of us will it be
for?

Up the switchbacks, back and forth we go, higher and higher, that man and I and
Booboo. We stay well back from him. I'm glad I'm not wearing my costume. What
would he think if he saw me like that? That I was the kind of person who wants to
be noticed, that's what.

I drop yet farther behind just at the thought that he might stop and talk.

He gets to the top before I do.

He has one of those soft khaki hats, not like mine. Under it I can see his short brown
beard but not much else. (Under my big hat, and thank goodness, you can hardly
see anything.) At the top he stands with his arms out and turns slowly to see the view
from all sides and as if he were lord of it all. He doesn't need a voice calling him. I'll
bet he's already Being and Doing and Proclaiming.

A little black cloud blocks the sun and it starts to hail. That man's hat won't help
much, but mine will. It may be too big and too bold for me, but it's serviceable. I
pick up Booboo and both of us hunker down under it. Up this high, that's the only
shelter there is.

And here's that voice again, even as I hunker down.

"Come. Do. Proclaim. Be your father's son."

It's still saying "Father's son."

The man looks all round as if looking for the voice, but it seems to be coming from
straight up. He looks up and gets the hail full on his face, but then he grimaces,
turns, and starts down. It's as if he doesn't want to hear more, even though it said
"Father's son" and most likely means him.

He passes us. He may not have seen me, though he must have seen Booboo in her
little red jacket.

Hail or no, I put Booboo down and climb to the top and stand where he was
standing. I take off my hat to show my real self. I shout. "Is it me? Am I the one?"

No answer.

I wish now I'd worn my new outfit. I like it. I mean I don't like it on me, but I'd like it
on somebody else. It's cheerful. I was pleased when I saw myself in it, but I didn't