"Henry Kuttner - Beauty and the Beast UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kuttner Henry)

Yet it was strange enough. It was shaped like a miniature
kangaroo, almost, and like no lizard Kirth had ever seen before. Perhaps he might sell it after all.
"Go git a box," he said to his daughter, and, when she had obeyed, he picked up the reptile gingerly and deposited it in the impromptu prison.
As he carried it into the house, he glanced at the plot of ground where he had planted some of the seeds. A few yellowish, small spears were sprouting up. Kirth nodded approvingly and scratched his jaw.
Mrs. Kirth, a plump, slatternly woman, approached. Her face was prematurely old, sagging in fat wrinkles. Her brown eyes had a defeated look, though there was still something of beauty in them.
"What you got there, Jay?" she asked.
"Tell you later," he said. "Git me some milk, Nora. And an eyedropper or something."
This was done. Kirth fed the reptile, which seemed to like the milk and sucked it down greedily. Its small, glittering eyes stared up unwinkingly.
"Pa," the girl said. "It's bigger. Lots bigger."
"Couldn't be," Kirth said. "Things don't grow that fast. Git out, now, and leave me be."
And in its prison the tiny creature that was to become the Beast drank thirstily of the milk, while in the dim, alien brain, clouded by the mists of centuries, thoughts began to stir. The first faint chords of memory vibrated . . . memory of a previous life, half forgotten. . . .
Kirth's daughter had been right. The reptile grew, abnormally and alarmingly. At the end of the second day, it was six inches long from blunt muzzle to tapering tail. When the week was over, it was more than twice as large. Kirth built a pen for it and was secretly elated.
"I can sell it, all right," he exulted. "Some circus'd pay me plenty. But it might git even bigger. I'll wait a bit."
Meanwhile he tended his Venusian plants. They were sprouting most satisfactorily now, and the beginnings of buds were evident. They were as tall as hollyhocks, but leafless. The thick, rigid stem, pale yellow in hue, was studded with swellings that presently burst into bloom.
At the end of the second week Kirth's garden was a riot of color, and he paid a photographer to take snapshots in color. These he sent to several horticultural gardens, which were immediately interested. A reporter got on the trail and interviewed Kirth.
Kirth was wary and spoke of plant grafting and experiments he had made. A new species of flower it was, and he had grown them. Yes, he had some seeds, and would sell them. . . .
The wrecked spaceship had not yet been discovered. And in its sty the Beast ate enormously of vegetables, and of swill which Kirth refused the reluctant hogs, and drank anything it could get. A scientist would have known, by the shape of the Beast's teeth, that it was carnivorous or at least omnivorous, but Kirth did not know, and the reptile did not appear to object to its menu. It grew, remarkably, and its basal metabolism was so high that its scaly body emitted perceptable heat.
It was as large now as a stallion. But it seemed so gentle that Kirth took no warning, though he kept a revolver in his pocket whenever he approached his bizarre charge.
The dim memories within the Beast's brain stirred into life from time to time. But one factor predominated, drowning them and lulling them to slumber. The Beast knew, somehow, that it was necessary for him to grow. Before anything else, he must attain his full growth and maturity. After that-
The Beast was intelligent, not with the aptitude of a child, but with the mind of a half-drugged adult. And he was not born of Earth. The alien chemistry of his body sent unknown
secretions coursing through his veins, and, as he ate and grew, that strange mind worked. . . .
The Beast learned, though as yet he could not take advantage of his knowledge. The Kirths' conversation was clearly audible to him through the open windows of the farmhouse, and their televisor was very often turned on. From observing the humans, he grew to recognize their moods, and in turn came to associate certain word-sounds with those moods.
He learned that certain grimaces accompanied a special set of emotions. He grew to understand laughter and tears.
One thing he did not understand-a look that came into the eyes of Mrs. Kirth and her daughter, and sometimes into Kirth's eyes, as they watched him. It was repugnance and horror, but the Beast did not know that.
Two months passed slowly. Kirdi received many checks in his mail. The new flowers had proved tremendously popular, and florists demanded them avidly. Lovelier than orchids they were, and they did not fade for a long time after being cut.
Kirth was not shrewd enough to keep control of the plants in his own hands, and the distribution of them got beyond him. Since the flowers would flourish in any climate, they were grown from California to New York. Fields of them formed a carpet of beauty over America. The fad spread over the world, and in Buenos Aires, London, and Berlin no socialite attended a dansant without a corsage of the Rainbows, as the blooms came to be called.
Kirth might have been satisfied with his growing bank account, but he had already got in touch with the owners of several circuses and told them he had a freak to sell. Kirth was becoming apprehensive. The Beast was uncomfortably huge, and people were noticing that scaled, swaying back as it moved about. Kirth, with some trepidation, led the monster into the barn, though it followed willingly enough. But the quarters were cramped. One blow from die mighty tail would
have wrecked the structure, and that was scarcely a pleasant thought.
Kirth would have been even more disturbed had he realized what was going on in the monster's brain. The fogs were dissipating as die Beast approached swift maturity. Intelligence and memory were returning. And already die creature could understand many English words.
That was natural enough. A child does die same, over a period of years, by a process of association, experiment, and mental retention of word-sounds. The Beast was not a child. He was a highly intelligent being, and for months he had been in close contact witii human beings. At times, he found it hard to concentrate, and would devote himself to feeding and sleeping, in a dull, pleasantly languorous stupor. Then the driving, inexorable force within him would awaken him to life once more.
It was hard to remember. The metamorphosis he had undergone had altered die psychic patterns of his mind to some degree. But one day he saw, dirough a crack in die barn, die Venusian flowers, and by a natural process of association diought of long-forgotten diings. Then a dull, gray, rainy day occurred. . . .
Rain. Chill, bleak water that splashed on his scaled hide. Thick fogs, dirough which structures reared. And among those stone buildings moved beings like himself. The Beast remembered. . . .
The hideous, armored head swayed in die dimness of the barn. The saucer eyes stared into vacancy. Tremendous and frightful, die Beast crouched, while its dioughts went far and far into the dusty ages of the past.
Odiers. There had been odiers like itself, die ruling race of die second planet. Somediing had happened. Deadi . . . doom. Many had died. All over die rain-swept, twilit world
the mighty reptiles had perished. Nothing could save them from the plague that had come from outer space. The vast hulk shuddered uneasily in the gloom.
No escape. Yes, there had been one. Despite the beast form of the creatures, they had beejh intelligent. And they had possessed science of a kind. It w^s not Earthly science-but it had found an escape.
Not in their own form. Nothing could protect the huge reptilian bodies from the plague. But in another form ... a form in which the basic energy patterns of their bodies would remain unaltered, though compressed by the creation of atomic stasis . . .
Matter is not solid. Bodies are formed of incredibly tiny solar systems, electrons that swing in wide orbits about their protons. Under the influence of cold this submicroscopic motion is slowed down, and at the point of absolute zero it ceases. But absolute zero means the cessation of all energy, and is impossible.
Impossible? Not on Venus, ages ago. As an experiment the life energy had been drained from one of the reptiles. As the electrons drew in toward their protons, there had been a shrinkage . . . and a change. A jewel of frozen life, an entity held in absolute stasis, lay before the Venusian scientists, waiting for the heat and solar rays that would waken it to life once more.
Space travel, to those bulky and gigantic forms, was impossible. But if, in different guise, they could flee to another, safer world. . . .
That had been the plan. All the energies of the Venusian survivors were turned toward constructing a spaceship. In this vessel the life-gems were to be stored and, as soon as possible, automatic robot controls would guide the craft across space, to Earth. Once a safe landing had been effected, other robot apparatus would expose the jewels to sunlight and heat, and the
Venusians would live again after their cataleptic voyage across the void. But the plan had not been completed. The plague was too deadly. The spaceship's unfinished ruins still lay hidden deep in a Venusian swamp, and it had been an Earth-man, after all, who had brought one of the strange jewels to his own world.
All over Venus the gems were hidden. The Beast had seen the night sky and learned that he was on the third planet. That meant he had been brought here from his own world, and revivified by the energizing rays. He felt gratitude to the Earthmen who had rescued him from the eternal life-in-death.
Perhaps he was not the only one. Perhaps others of his race existed here, on Earth. Well, he would communicate with these humans, now that the fogs were clearing from his brain. Strange creatures they were, bipeds, and hideous to the Beast's alien eyes. But he was grateful to them, nevertheless.
How could he communicate? The Earthmen were intelligent, that was evident enough. His own language would be incomprehensible to them, and though he could understand English after a fashion, his throat and tongue could not form recognizable words. Well, mathematics was a universal language, and that could be the beginning. There was somediing he must tell Earthmen-something vitally important. But they were the ruling race on this planet, and it would not be too difficult to establish communication with them.
The Beast moved clumsily. His body lurched against the wall of the barn and, with a crackling crash, timbers gave way. The big structures sagged down, and as the Beast drew back in dismay, he completed the job of ruin. He stood amid the wreck of something that no longer resembled a barn. Im-patiendy, he shook it off. Things on this world were delicate indeed. The heavy stone structures of Venus were built to withstand normal shocks.
The noise had been heard. Kirth came running out of the farmhouse, carrying a shotgun and holding an electric torch. His wife was beside him. They started toward the barn, and then paused, apprehensive.
"It-it tore it down," Mrs. Kirth said stupidly. "Do you think it'll- Jay! Wait!"
But Kirth went forward, holding the gun ready. In the moonlight the gross bulk of the monster loomed hideously above him.
And the Beast thought: It is time. Time to establish communication. . . .