"Follett, James - Earthsearch 00 - Mindwarp" - читать интересную книгу автора (Follett James)

no more than a cursory glance as he sat down. Father Gilith
was uncomfortably aware of the boy's intense blue eyes
staring at his bald pate as he read:
EWEN SOLANT. 7 YEARS OLD
MOTHER: KALLY SOLANT -- WIDOW
ADDRESS: 1909, GALTHAN
MOTHER'S OCCUPATION: CLOTHES DESIGNER AND RETAILER
ADOPTIVE FATHER: WAS UNEMPLOYED. KIA (SEE REPORT
876/a/GALTHAN CONTROL)
REAL FATHER: ANONYMOUS ARTIFICIAL INSEMINATION DONOR
SIBLING: TARLAN...
There was more information but Father Gilith skipped it
because he didn't like the way the boy was gazing at him. An
additional note at the foot of the display caught his eye.
MOTHER EXCEPTIONALLY GIFTED. SELECTED AT AGE OF 7 (SEE
TEST RESULTS). DESELECTED SAME DAY ON ORDERS OF THE FIRST
SECRETARY'S OFFICE
Out of curiousity, Father Gilith called up the page on
Kally Solant's selection results. The score was the highest
that the technician-father had ever seen. So why had the
First Secretary deselected her? Very strange. Well, the
woman's son was sitting before him. What were the chances
that he had inherited his mother's remarkable talent?
He looked up. A warm, expansive smile wreathed his florid
face. A neat, well-scrubbed boy confronted him. A pinched,
drawn face. Gaunt, almost craggy features that reminded him
of someone although he couldn't think who. Light brown hair,
and those remarkable blue eyes with a hint of incipient
mischief that didn't seem to belong. A smart blue one-piece
suit that fitted well. But then his mother was a clothes
designer.
`Good morning... Er, Ewen, isn't it?' He had an idea that
his smile, calculated to put children at their ease, was not
required in this instance. Far from looking suitably
intimated at being in the presence of a technician, Ewen had
shifted his attention to Father Gilith's Guardian of Destiny
medallion. The iridescent bent arrow in a circle logo
sparkled with myriads of varying colours as he moved.
`My full name is Ewen Solant. Should I call you "sir" like
at school?'
Father Gilith's pulse quickened. Normally he hated the
yearly selection days. He had interviewed over thirty kids
that morning, and just about all of them had wet themselves
with fear. Why, in the outdoors, weren't nine-year-olds
selected for GoD training? What difference would a couple of
years make? But something told him that this boy was
different. Just how different Ewen was, the amiable Father
Gilith was about to find out.
`I'm Technician-Father Gilith.' He smiled again. `A bit of
a mouthful, eh, Ewen?'