"Zach Hughes - The Book of Rack the Healer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hughes Zach)

only a small amount of energy to answer as he tended a colony of Juicers
at the Eastern Group Establishment. It was a moment of peace, if one
could ignore the storm and the consequent lessening purity of the
atmosphere. But it was always thus and those who cried disaster when the
storms blew had cried disaster before.

A Power Giver soared high above the roiling clouds. Red Earth did not
bother to establish contact or to ascertain identity. Power Givers were
notoriously capricious. The flight, of course, was a shameful waste, but it
was her own energies and substance the Power Giver was consuming. If
one fulfilled one's responsibilities, one's actions were one's ownтАФa
principle that held even for Power Givers.

Yet, the waste vaguely disturbed Red Earth and he sought to distract
himself by watching two young Healers, at the mid-point of their learning.
They were moving outside, using stored life for long periods. As they were
unable to utilize the outside air with its high toxic content, their lungs
held pure air and their gills pumped out poisons. A Webber had escaped
an establishment adjacent to the Eastern Group Establishment. Red Earth
watched anxiously until the two youngsters, moving slowly, not wasting
life or force, herded the weakening Webber back to her kind in the
enclosure. She would survive.

Near the sea, the process of food-making continued with pleasing
steadiness. And, more exciting, a rare joining was in process. Without
prying openly, Red Earth took satisfaction in the beautiful act. He lifted
his feelings to the toxic sky and, although there was no movement of his
bare knob of a head, the effect was a nod of blessing and pleasure. A new
life was being created.

That he himself would never know the true beauty of the act was
unimportant. He felt no jealousy for the Healer engaged in joining with a
Power Giver, creating life. It was the nature of things. In return, Healers
and Power Givers held no envy for his ability to achieve the pleasure of the
act repeatedly, even though that mysterious force which governed life
allowed the Healers and the Power Givers only one or two unions. Nature
gave the Far Seers pleasure to compensate for their inability to create life,
and, always logical, limited the fertile ones. A dying planet was capable of
supporting just so many.

Red Earth carried many burdens, but the burdens were not without
their rewards. And Far Seers were accustomed to the burdens, having long
since become resigned to responsibility. Deepsoft. Power Givers could
squander their precious substance in meaningless soarings above the toxic
clouds for the simple joys of vision unobscured by clouds of dense gases
and of breathing the thin wisps of pure air. Healers could ramble
aimlessly. Each had his duty and if it were performed the Far Seers would
see to their survival.

The storms would pass. The noxious, heavy gases would settle back into