"Philip Jose Farmer - Tongues of the Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Farmer Phillip Jose)

"Did Scone push that through?" said Broward. "That..."
Ingrid stepped back from his arms and looked up at him. "Oh, no, I'll say that for him. He fought it. He said we
shouldn't do anything about the man-woman ratio until we'd settled the account with Mars. For once, he couldn't get
his way. He was shouted down. Those men were like a pack of howling wolves."
"Sure, he opposed it. He wants you for himself."
Ingrid took a handkerchief from her coverall pocket and dabbed at her eyes. "Well, he can't have me. At least,
I'll be able to pick the men I want. You can bet your bottom ruble that he won't be one of them. Unless he's one of
those left over after all the picking and choosing is done. Then, hell be assigned by a committee. And the poor woman
that gets him won't have a thing to say about it."
Broward said, "I suppose that, the situation being what it is, nothing else could be done. It's..."
"What kind of a man are you?" she wailed, and she began crying again.
"I'm trying to be logical. Objective. Getting emotional isn't going to help any."
"Well, I intend to be emotional. All emotional. I haven't got a bit of logic about this, and I don't intend to have
any! Are you really telling me you'll stand by while some other man takes me off to bed?"
"If there's a way out, I'll think of it," he said. "But it'll take brain power, not tears."
Ingrid turned away from him and ran away. He watched her flight down the hall, the luminescence of the
panels keeping pace with her. "A firefly," he thought. "In reverse. The flames pursuing her."
And he laughed, though weakly, at himself. Always the romantic poet, no matter what the situation.
He decided it would do no good at the moment to follow her and try to comfort her. He entered the
conference room in time to hear Scone appoint a committee of nine. This was to consider methods for implementing the
new rule, already termed "Sexual Grouping Policy." After drawing up a set of principles and rules for enforcing them,
the committee was to submit them for a general vote.
Some of the women were angry, and some were pale with shock. But it was obvious that nothing could have
more pleased Sonya Abarbanel, the beautiful biochemist. Seeing her, Broward became even more angry. For a second,
he thought of proposing that the problem be solved by making her an official whore for both Eratosthenes and
Clavius. Then, controlling himself, he saw how ridiculous he would appear and what a sharp public rebuke he would
receive.
Nevertheless, he could not help loathing her. It did not detract from his feeling to remind himself that he had
once had an affair with her. His celibate life on the Moon had made him an easy prey for herтАФif prey was the word for
such a willing participant as himself. Then, on discovering that she was bedding with at least ten other men at the
same time, he had quit her in disgust and shame.
A moment later, as usual, he regretted his loathing. Poor creature, she could not help it. Who knew what
strange and powerful desires moved her, what her compulsions were? And she had servedтАФwas servingтАФa deep
need. Many of the men led monastic lives here. As long as they were to be here only a year or two, they could be
supposed to endure the enforced continence or could not be blamed if they took advantage of any chance to break it
But, no man now could be expected to live like a holy hermit the rest of his life, especially since, unlike the
ancient hermit, he would come into daily contact with women. So, despite his anger and Ingrid's grief, he had to admit
that the decision was the only one to make. That did not mean he had to like it.
It was a mess, and God only knew how many heartbreaksтАФ his among themтАФwould result.
His attention was caught by the man then speaking from the floor. He was Pierre Schwartz, the only Swiss on
the Moon, and he was making a motion that nationalism be condemned. He proposed that each base transfer a third of
its personnel to another. This would also pave the way for men to think of themselves as Soviets only, not American
Soviets or Russian or Chinese Soviets. It would be a foolproof way to make certain that their sons and daughters
would think of themselves as members of a single group.
Several dozen people leaped up, shaking their fists and screaming at Schwartz. Order was restored only by
Scone's gavel and his roaring.
"Schwartz! I am denying you the right to make such a motion! You yourself are the living proof that people of
different national origins and speaking different languages can live harmoniously! You areтАФwereтАФa citizen of
Switzerland! Sit down, or I shall expel you from the meeting!"
Shrugging, the Swiss obeyed. Immediately, Jack Campbell, a Canadian, got Scone's recognition.