"Carolyn Ives Gilman - Okanoggan Falls" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gilman Carolyn Ives)

Town Council meetings weren't formal, and usually a few people straggled in late. This day, everyone
was assembled at Town Hall by five P.M., when the Wattesoon officer had said he would address them.
By now they knew it was not just Okanoggan Falls; all four towns along a fifty-mile stretch of Highway
14 had their own occupying forces camped outside town, and their own captains addressing them at
precisely five o'clock. Like most Wattesoon military actions, it had been flawlessly coordinated.

The captain arrived with little fanfare. Two sand-colored army transports sped down Main Street and
pulled up in front of Town Hall. The two occupants of one got out, while three soldiers in the other stood
guard to keep the curious at armsтАЩ length. Their weapons remained in their slings. They seemed to be
trying to keep the mood low-key.

The two who entered Town Hall looked exactly like Wattesoons on televisionтАФsquat lumps of rubbly
khaki-colored skin, like blobs of clay mixed with gravel. They wore the usual beige army uniforms that
hermetically encased them, like shrink wrap, from neck to heel, but neither officer had on the face mask
or gloves the invaders usually employed to deal with humans. An aroma like baking rocks entered the
room with themтАФnot unpleasant, just not a smell ordinarily associated with living creatures.

In studied, formal English the larger Wattesoon introduced himself as Captain Groton, and his companion
as Ensign Agush. No one offered to shake hands, knowing the famous Wattesoon horror at touching
slimy human flesh.

The council sat silent behind the row of desks they used for hearings, while the captain stood facing them
where people normally gave testimony, but there was no question about where the power lay. The
townspeople had expected gruff, peremptory orders, and so Captain Groton's reasonable tone came as
a pleasant surprise; but there was nothing reassuring about his message.

The Wattesoons wished to strip-mine a fifty-mile swath of the hilly, wooded Okanoggan Valley. тАЬOur
operations will render the land uninhabitable,тАЭ Captain Groton said. тАЬThe army is here to assist in your
removal. We will need you to coordinate the arrangements so this move can be achieved expeditiously
and peacefully.тАЭ There was the ever-so-slight hint of a threat in that last word.

When he finished there was a short silence, as the council absorbed the imminent destruction of
everything they had lived for and loved. The image of Okanoggan Valley transformed into a mine pit
hovered before every eye: no maple trees, no lilacs, no dogs, no streetlights. Rob Massey, the scrappy
newspaper editor, was first to find his voice. тАЬWhat do you want to mine?тАЭ he said sharply. тАЬThere are
no minerals here."

"Silica,тАЭ the captain answered promptly. тАЬThere is a particularly pure bed of it underneath your
limestone."

He meant the white, friable sandstoneтАФuseless for building, occasionally used for glass. What they
wanted it for was incomprehensible, like so much about them. тАЬWill we be compensated for our
property?тАЭ Paula Sanders asked, as if any compensation would suffice.

"No,тАЭ the captain answered neutrally. тАЬThe land is ours."

Which was infuriating, but unarguable.

"But it's our home!тАЭ Tom blurted out. тАЬWe've lived here, some of us four, five generations. We've built
this community. It's our life. You can't just walk in and level it."