"Foster, Alan Dean - Flinx 1 - For Love of Mother-Not" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

That hardness and cold. resolve lived in each of them, however, fostered and intensified by two decades of persecution. They saw themselves as men and women apart from the common herd. Their aim was nothing less than the improvement of mankind in spite of itself. That their methods might result in damage to the innocent was some-thing they had known from the beginning. They had put that and other conventionally moral beliefs aside, believing that such sacrifices were necessary that the majority might benefit. They called their group the Meliorare Society, an innocent-sounding name drawn to mask the intention of improving humanity via the artificial manipulation of genetic material.
Their troubles began when several of their less successful experiments came to light, whereupon the outcry over the revelations had been enormous. Now they were compelled to work in scattered outposts instead of in a single research installation, always barely a jump ahead of pursuing government authorities. They were looked down upon and viewed with horror by the general populace.
Many of their associates had already vanished, having been discovered and taken into custody by the relentless minions of an ignorant officialdom: martyrs to science, the survivors knew-inhuman monsters, according to the media reports.
Of course, the aims of the Meliorare Society were dangerous! Improvement-change-was always viewed as dangerous by the shortsighted. The members had steeled themselves to that way of thinking, and it no longer affected them. What mattered were results, not the opinions of the ignorant masses.
So they did not fear dying, did not fear the even more horrible punishment of selective mindwipe, because they believed in the rightness of their cause. If only one of their experiments turned out successfully, it would vindicate the work propounded on Terra some forty years earlier by the Society's founder. Then they would be able to re-emerge into the scientific community that had disowned them. They would be able to point with pride to a mature, noticeably improved human being.
The air of excitement that pervaded the room was re-strained but clearly felt as they gathered around the computer screen.
"This had better live up to its readout, Nyassa-lee," Cruachan warned. "I have half a volume of information to process from the Cannachanna system, and as you know, we're likely going to have to abandon this place and move on within the month. That means reset, breakdown of equipment, and all the difficulties moving entails."
"You know me better than that, Cruachan," said the woman seated in the chair. "There was no feeling of triumph in what she had just done; they had progressed beyond such trivialities. "I've been feeding and cross-correlating records on dispersal and individual subject characteristics for months now. It's finally paid off. I've located Number Twelve."
The tall black woman leaned closer to the screen. "Number Twelve-that sticks in the mind. Male, wasn't it?"
Nyassa-lee nodded and indicated the screen. "Here, I'II run the relevants back for you."
They refamiliarized themselves with the details of the case in question. It had been eight years since case interdiction. In the eight years since, they had encountered a number of other subjects. Most of them had grown into normal childhood. A few had even displayed tiny flashes of promise, but nothing worth a full-scale follow-up.
Then there had been those whose minds and bodies had been horribly distorted and twisted by the original surgical manipulations, for which they each shared the blame. Un-fortunate failures such as those had been made public by the government and had raised such an emotional outcry among the scientifically unsophisticated public that the government had been able to legalize its witch hunt against the Society.
Most of the subject children had been recovered by the government, raised in special homes, and restored to normality. Where possible, the genetic alterations performed by the Society's surgeons had been corrected to enable all the children to live a normal life.
If we cannot improve upon the normal, thought Haithness, then we do not deserve to explore and master the universe. Nature helps those who help themselves. Why should we not employ our learning and knowledge to give evolution a boost?
From the far corner of the darkened room, a man called out. "Brora reports that a government shuttle has landed at Calaroom shuttleport."
"Could be the usual load of agricultural specialists," Cruachan said thoughtfully.
"Possible," agreed the individual manning the communications console, "but can we afford that risk?"
"I hate to order evacuation on such slim evidence. Any word on how many passengers?"
"Hard to say," the man ventured, listening intently to his receiver. "Brora says at least a dozen he doesn't recognize."
"That's a lot of agricultural specialists, Cruachan," Haithness pointed out.
"It is." He called across to the communications specialist. "Tell Brora to pull back and prepare for departure. We can't take chances. Push evac time from a month to tonight."
'Tonight?" The voice of the communicator had a dubious ring. "I won't have half the equipment broken down by then."
"New communications equipment we can buy," Cruachan reminded him. "Replacements for ourselves are not available."
The man at the corn console nodded and turned back to his station, speaking softly and hurriedly into the pickup. Cruachan returned his attention to the computer screen.
Information emerged. NUMBER TWELVE. MALE. PHYSICALLY UNDISTINGUISED AS A CHILD. Next were descriptions of cerebral index and figures for cortical energy displacement.
Oh, yes; Cruachan remembered now. Unpredictable, that Number Twelve. Patterns in brain activity suggesting paranormal activity but nothing concrete. Particularly fascinating had been the amount of activity emerging from the left side of the cerebrum, usually detected only in females. That by itself was not reason enough for excitement, but there was also continuous signs of functioning in at least two sections of brain that were not normally active, the "dead" areas of the mind. That activity, like the child himself, had also been unpredictable.
And yet, despite such encouraging evidence, the case history of Number Twelve was devoid of the usual promising developments. No hint of telepathy, psycho-kinesis, pyrokinesis, dual displacement, or any of the other multitude of abilities the Society had hoped to bring to full flower in its experimental children.
Still, Number Twelve at least exhibited a possible some-thing.
"Well, this one certainly shows more promise than the last dozen or so," Haithness had to admit. "It's been so long since we had contact with him. I'd nearly forgotten those activity readings. We need to get to this one as quickly as possible. Where's he situated?"
Nyassa-lee tapped keys below the readout, bringing forth answers. "Where in the Commonwealth is that?" Haithness grumbled.
"Trading world," Cruachan put in, thinking hard. "Centrally located but unimportant in and of itself. A stopover world, low in native population."
"You won't mind going there once you've seen this," Nyassa-lee assured them both. Her fingers moved delicately over the keyboard a second time, and fresh in-formation glowed on screen. "This is recent, from the local operative who relocated the subject. It appears that the child has definitely displayed one Talent, possibly two. Furthermore, he has done so in public and apparently without any specialized training."
"Without training," Cruachan whispered. "Remarkable, if true."
Nyassa-lee tapped the screen. "This operative has been reliable in the past and particularly noteworthy for the ac-curacy of his observations. The Talent in question is a telepathic variant of some sort. The operative is not a scientifically trained observer, of course, and he is even less certain of the second one, though its potential value may be even greater."
"What is it?" Haithness asked.
"I've been hard put to find a name for it. Basically, it seems that the child may be an emolterator."
The other woman looked confused. "I don't remember that on the list of possible Talents."
"It wasn't there. It's an original. Original with this child, it seems," Cruachan said. Nyassa-lee nodded. "It means that he may be able to influence the actions of others. Not mind control, nothing as strong as that. It would be more subtle. One possessing such an ability would have to utilize it Very carefully. If this report is true . . ." His voice and thoughts drifted for a moment as he studied the readout.
"It seems the child's Talents have gone unnoticed by the authorities and that he has developed naturally. All without even the most rudimentary training. The signs certainly point to powerful potentials waiting to be unlocked."
"Either the child has grown up unaware of these Talents," Nyassa-lee said, studying new information as it appeared on the screen, "or else he is precociously clever."
"It may be just natural caution," Haithness put in. "It will be interesting to find out which is the case."
"Which we will do," Cruachan said firmly. "It's been a long time since we've had a subject as promising as this one come back to us. He could be the one we've searched for all these years."
"It had better not be a repeat of the last time we located a subject with these figures," Haithness cautioned, then indicated the new figures materializing on the screen. "Look at those neurological potentials. Remember the only other child who showed numbers like that?"
"Of course, I remember," Cruachan said irritably. "We won't lose this one the way we lost that girl-what the devil was the little monster's name?"
"Mahnahmi," Nyassa-lee reminded him. "Yes, if this boy's anything like that one, we're going to have to be extremely careful. I couldn't take a repeat of that experience."
"Neither could I, frankly," Cruachan admitted. "Our mistake was in trying to regain control over her directly. End result: the girl vanishes again, and two more of the society go to a premature end. And we're still not sure how she accomplished it."
"We'll run across her again someday, when our methods are improved," Haithness said coolly. "Then we'll deal with her properly."
"I'm not sure I'd want to chance it." Nyassa-lee looked back at the screen. "Meanwhile, it would be good to keep in mind the fact that the potential of this Number Twelve theoretically exceeds even that of the girl."
"True," Cruachan admitted, studying the figures, "but it's clear that his development has been much slower. We should have plenty of time to cope with any maturing Talent and make certain it is safely contained, for the child's benefit as well as our own, of course."
"Of course," Haithness agreed calmly. "I am curious to know how you propose to accomplish that. You know how volatile a Talent can become if stressed."