"Henry Kuttner - Mimsy Were The Borogoves" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kuttner Henry)

тАШPunny,тАЭ Scott said, thinking deeply.
тАЬSalmon do the same thing, more or less. They go up rivers to spawn.тАЭ Paradine went into detail. Scott was
fascinated.
тАЬBut thatтАЩs right, Dad. TheyтАЩre born in the river, and when they learn how to swim, they go down to the sea. And
they come back to lay their eggs, huh?тАЭ
тАЬRight.тАЭ
тАЬOnly they wouldnтАЩt come back,тАЭ Scott pondered. тАЬTheyтАЩd just send their eggsтАФтАЭ
тАЬItтАЩd take a very long ovipositor,тАЭ Paradine said, and vouchsafed some well-chosen remarks upon oviparity.
His son wasnтАЩt entirely satisfied. Flowers, he contended, sent their seeds long distances.
тАЬThey donтАЩt guide them. Not many find fertile soil.тАЭ
тАЬFlowers havenтАЩt got brains, though. Dad, why do people live here?тАЭ
тАЬGlendale?тАЭ
тАЬNoтАФhere. This whole place. It isnтАЩt all there is, I bet.тАЭ
тАЬDo you mean the other planets?тАЭ
Scott was hesitant. тАЬThis is onlyтАФpart of the big place. ItтАЩs like the river where the salmon go. Why donтАЩt people
go on down to the ocean when they grow up?тАЭ
Paradine realized that Scott was speaking figuratively. He felt a brief chill. TheтАФocean?

The young of the species are not conditioned to live in the more com-plete world of their parents. Having developed
sufficiently, they enter
that world. Later they breed. The fertilized eggs are buried in the sand, far up the river, where later they hatch.
And they learn. Instinct alone is fatally slow. Especially in the case of a specialized genus, unable to cope even with
this world, unable to feed or drink or survive, unless someone has foresightedly provided for those needs.
The young, fed and tended, would survive. There would be incu-bators and robots. They would survive, but they
would not know how to swim downstream, to the vaster world of the ocean.
So they must be taught. They must be trained and conditioned in many ways.
Painlessly, subtly, unobtrusively. Children love toys that do things, and if those toys teach at the same time..


In the latter half of the nineteenth century an Englishman sat on a grassy bank near a stream. A very small girl lay
near him, staring up at the sky. She had discarded a curious toy with which she had been playing, and now was
murmuring a wordless little song, to which the man listened with half an ear.
тАЬWhat was that, my dear?тАЭ he asked at last. тАЬJust something I made up, Uncle Charles.тАЭ
тАЬSing it again.тАЭ He pulled out a notebook. The girl obeyed.
тАЬDoes it mean anything?тАЭ
She nodded. тАЬOh, yes. Like the stories I tell you, you know.тАЭ
тАШTheyтАЩre wonderful stories, dear.тАЭ
тАЬAnd youтАЩll put them in a book someday?тАЭ
тАЬYes, but I must change them quite a lot, or no one would under-stand. But I donтАЩt think IтАЩll change your little
song.тАЭ
тАЬYou mustnтАЩt. If you did, it wouldnтАЩt mean anything.тАЭ
тАЬI wonтАЩt change that stanza, anyway,тАЭ he promised. тАЬJust what does ft mean?тАЭ
тАЬItтАЩs the way out, I think,тАЭ the girl said doubtfully. тАЬIтАЩm not sure yet. My magic toys told me.тАЭ
тАЬI wish I knew what London shop sold these marvellous toys!тАЭ
тАЬMama bought them for me. SheтАЩs dead. Papa doesnтАЩt care.тАЭ
She lied. She had found the toys in a box one day, as she played by the Thames. And they were indeed wonderful.
Her little songтАФUncle Charles thought it didnтАЩt mean anything. (He wasnтАЩt her real uncle, she parenthesized. But he
was nice.) The song meant a great deal. It was the way. Presently she would do what it said, and then. .
 But she was already too old. She never found the way.