"Alan Dean Foster - Humanx 2 - Cachalot" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

Mustapha Ali sat on the end of Rorqual Towne
and was not seasick. There was nothing any save an
outsider would have found remarkable in this. Mus-
tapha had lived all his long life on Cachalot, and those
who are bom to that world know less of seasickness
than a worm does of Andromeda. All born on Cacha-
lot rest in two cradles: their nursery, and the greater
nursery of the all-encompassing Mother Ocean. Those
who arrived on Cachalot from other worlds did not
long remain if they proved susceptible to motion sick-
ness.

It was a great change, wrought by history and ac-
cident, Mustapha thought as he let his burl-dark legs
dangle over the side of the dock. They moved a meter
or so above the deep green-black water. His ancestors
had come from a high, dry section of Earth, where the
sea was only a tale told to wide-eyed children. And
here he lived, where most of the land was imported.

His ancestors had been great players of the game.
That was his only regret, not being able to carry on the
tradition of the game. For where on Cachalot could
one find fifty fine horsemen and a dead goat? Mus-
tapha had settled for being a champion water polo
player, having mastered that game and its many local
variants in his youth. Compared with the game of his
forebears, all had been gentle and undemanding.




2 CACHALOT

Now he was reduced to experiencing less strenuous
pleasures, but he was not unhappy. The old-fashioned
fishing pole he extended over the water had been hand-
wrought in his spare time from a single piece of broad-
cast antenna. A line played out through the notch cut
in the far end, vanished beneath the surface below the
dock. The antenna had once served to seek out invis-
ible words from across the sky and water. Now it
helped him find small, tasty fish at far shorter distances.

Mustapha glanced at the clouds writhing overhead,
winced when a drop of rain caught him in the eye. The
possible storm did not appear heavy. As always, the
sky looked more threatening than it would eventually
prove to be. Thunder blustered and echoed, but did
not dislodge the elderly fisherman from his place.