"Henry Kuttner - The Creature From Beyond Infinity UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kuttner Henry)

ctIAPTER II

- Yow~h

On August 7, 1924, an eight-year-old boy caused a panic in a Des Moines theater.
His name was Stephen Court. He had been born to a theatrical family of mediocre talent-the Cra▒y Courts, they were billed. The act was a combination of gags, dances and humorous songs. Stephчn traveled with his parents on tour, when they played one-night stands and small vaudeville circuits. In -1924, vaudeville had not yet been killed by the films. It was
the beginning of the Jazz Age.
Stephen was so remarkably intelligent, even as a child, that he was soon incorporated into the act as a "mental wizard." He wore a miniature cap and gown, and was introduced by his parents at the end of their turn.
"Any date-ask him any historical date, my friends, and he


will answer! The gentleman in the third row. What do you' want to know?"
- And Stephen would answer accurately. When did Columbus discover America? When was the Magna Charta signed? When was the Battle of Hastings? When was Lafayette born?
"Mathematical questions? You, there-" -
Stephen would answer. Mathematics was no riddle for him, nor algebra. The value of piP He knew it. Formulas and equations slipped glibly from his tongue. He stood on the stage in the spotlight, his small face impassive, a small, dark-haired child with curiously luminous brown eyes, and answered all questions.
He read omnivorously every book he could manage to obtain. He was coldly unemotional, which distressed his mother, and he hid his thoughts well.
Then, on that August night, his life suddenly changed.
The act was almost over. The audience was applauding wildly. The Courts stood on each side of the boy, bowing. And Stephen stood motionless, his strange, glowing eyes staring out into the gloom of the theater.
"Take your bows, kid," Court hissed from the side of his mouth.
But the boy didn't answer. There was an odd tensity in his rigid posture. His expressionless face seemed strained. Only in his eyes was there life, and a terrible fire.
In the theater, a whisper grew to a murmur and the applause died. Then the murmur swelled to a restrained roar, until someone screamed:
"Fire!" -
Court glanced around quickly. He could see no signs of smoke or flame. But he made a quick gesture, and the-orchestra leader struck up a tune. Hastily the man and woman went into a routine tap dance.
"Steve!" Court said urgently. "Join in!"
But Stephen just stood there, and through the theater the roar rose to - individual screams of panic. The audience no longer watched the stage. They sprang up and fought their wayto the exits, cursing, pushing, crowding.
Nothing could stop it. By sheer luck no one was killed. But in ten minutes the theater was empty-and there had been nosignbf a fire.
In his dressing room, Court looked queerly at his son.
"What was wrong with you tonight, kid?" he asked, as he removed greasepaint from his face with cold cream.


"Nothing," Stephen said abstractedly.
"Something funny about the whole thing. There wasn't any

Stephen sat on a chair, his legs swinging idly.
"That magician we played with last week-" he began.
"Yeah?"
"I got some ideas from him." -
"Well?" his father urged.
"I watched him when he hypnotized a man from the audience. That's all it was. I hypnotized the entire audience to-
- night."
"Oh, cut it out," Court said, grinning.
"It's trues The conditions were right. Everyone's attention was focused on me. I made them think there was a fire."
When Court turned and looked at the boy, he had an odd feeling that this was not his son sitting opposite him. The round face was childish, but the eyes were not. They were cold, watchful, direct.
Court laughed without much conviction.
"You're crazy," he said, turning back to the light-rimmed mirror. -
"Maybe I am," Stephen said lightly. "I want to go to school. Will you send me?"
"I can't afford it. Anyway, you're too big an attraction, Maybe we can manage later."
Stephen did not argue. He rose and went toward his mother's dressing room;'but he did not enter. Instead, - he turned and left the theater.
He had determined to run away.
Stephen already knew that his brain was far superior to the average. It was as yet unformed, requiring knowledge and capable training. Those he could never get through his parents. He felt no sorrow or pity on leaving them. His cool intellect combined with the natural cruelty of childhood to make him unemotional, passionlessly logical.