"L Ron Hubbard - Mission Earth 03 - The Enemy Within" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hubbard L. Ron)

And EMPTINESS!



file:///F|/rah/L%20Ron%20Hubbard/Mission%20Earth%2003%20-%20The%20Enemy%20Within.txt (21 of 153) [8/31/03 1:16:51 PM]
 file:///F|/rah/L%20Ron%20Hubbard/Mission%20Earth%2003%20-%20The%20Enemy%20Within.txt

The sobbing plaint was more than I could take. "Utanc!" I shouted.
It broke the spell!
She cast away the cura irizva with a clatter.
She fled from the room!
And even though I was very fast, the door was locked and barred before I could reach her
room.
I stood there for hours. I couldn't stop trembling. I went to my office and wrote out an
order for a WATS line with an unlisted number. I slid it under her door but the edge stayed in
view.
The next day I realized that I was becoming physically ill. I ached all over. Things were in
a sort of a blur. I just wandered about, stopping now and then and staring and not seeing what I
was looking at.
I thought to myself that this was no good, getting ill this way. I would not be fit if
anything did happen to bring Utanc to my bed. Although I almost never touched the stuff, a bit of
Scotch might do me good. I had been keeping a bottle to give to the captain of the Blixo when he
arrived. I went to a cupboard to dig it out.
It was gone!
I called the waiter.
He said he didn't know anything about it.
I wandered around some more. I couldn't even sit down!
The waiter came in to serve me my supper.
He kept standing there, twisting his hands, so I looked at him. The waiter had a black eye!
"Sultan Bey," he said, shuffling his feet, "I came to confess that it was I who took the
Scotch."
But really, even though this was a marvelous opportunity to punish him, I was too far gone. I
simply waved him away. I couldn't eat my supper either.
Maybe I would die and simply be through with the whole thing. I had decided finally and
inevitably that this was the best plan when, suddenly, there was one of the small boys.
"Utanc says that you should bathe and put on a turban and go into the salon."
Weak as I was, I made pretty good time!
I waited quite a while.
Then there was a slither at the door. It cracked wider. In she came. She was carrying a
bucket, two unlit torches and her curo irizva.
Quietly she took her place in the center of the room.
She was dressed in red-embroidered pantaloons and vest. She had a red band with flowers in it
around her black hair. Her toenails and fingernails were scarlet. And so was her veil.
But she just sat slumped, eyes downcast. She sighed deeply. She looked listless.
At length I got up courage enough to whisper, "Why are you sighing?"
"O my master, I am sad because I cannot tolerate the thought of being cooped up all day in a
single room and garden. Were I to move about on foot, I would be stared at or attacked upon the
roads. I feel I can never be happy without a BMW 320, fuel-injected engine, five-speed stick
shift, rally-model sedan."
For the first time I felt a surge of horror. Such a car would cost a million and a half