"Henry Kuttner - The Piper's Son UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kuttner Henry)

"Not the hairless ones. The ones who won't wear wigs. They-"
"They're fools. And they're giving all the Baldies a bad name. Point one, Ethel doesn't read minds; she didn't read Mrs. Reilly's. Point two, she doesn't gossip."
"La Reilly is obviously an hysterical type," Moon said. "Word got around about this scandal, whatever it was, and Mrs. Reilly remembered she'd seen Ethel lately. She's the type who needs a scapegoat anyway. I rather imagine she let word drop herself, and had to cover up so her husband wouldn't blame her."
"I'm not going to accept Reilly's challenge," Burkhalter said doggedly.
"You'll have to."
"Listen, Doc, maybe-"
"What?"
"Nothing. An idea. It might work. Forget about that; I think I've got the right answer. It's the only one, anyway. I can't afford a duel and that's flat."
"You're not a coward."
"There's one thing Baldies are afraid of," Burkhalter said, "and that's public opinion. I happen to know I'd kill Reilly. That's the reason why I've never dueled in my life."
Moon drank coffee. "Hm-m-m. I think-"
"Don't. There was something else. I'm wondering if I ought to send Al off to a special school."
"What's wrong with the kid?"
"He's turning out to be a beautiful delinquent. His teacher called me this morning. The playback was something to hear.
He's talking funny and acting funny. Playing nasty little tricks on his friends-if he has any left by now."
"All kids are cruel."
"Kids don't know what cruelty means. That's why they're cruel; they lack empathy. But Al's getting-" Burkhalter gestured helplessly. "He's turning into a young tyrant. He doesn't seem to give a care about anything, according to his teacher."
"That's not too abnormal, so far."
"That's not the worst. He's become very egotistical. Too much so. I don't want him to turn into one of the wigless Baldies you were mentioning." Buckhalter didn't mention the other possibility; paranoia, insanity.
"He must pick things up somewhere. At home? Scarcely, Ed. Where else does he go?"
"The usual places. He's got a normal environment."
"I should think," Moon said, "that a Baldy would have unusual opportunities in training a youngster. The mental rapport-eh?"
"Yeah. But-I don't know. The trouble is," Burkhalter said almost inaudibly, "I wish to God I wasn't different. We didn't ask to be telepaths. Maybe it's all very wonderful in the long run, but I'm one person, and I've got my own microcosm. People who deal in long-term sociology are apt to forget that. They can figure out the answers, but it's every individual man -or Baldy- who's got to fight his own personal battle while he's alive. And it isn't as clear-cut as a battle. It's worse; it's the necessity of watching yourself every second, of fitting yoursejf into a world that doesn't want you."
Moon looked uncomfortable. "Are you being a little sorry for yourself, Ed?"
Burkhalter shook himself. "I am, Doc. But I'll work it out."
"We both will," Moon said, but Burkhalter didn't really expect much help from him. Moon would be willing, but it was horribly difficult for an ordinary man to conceive that a Baldy was-the same. It was the difference that men looked for, and found.
Anyway, he'd have to settle matters before he saw Ethel again. He could easily conceal the knowledge, but she would recognize a mental barrier and wonder. Their marriage had been the more ideal because of the additional rapport, something that compensated for an inevitable, half-sensed estrangement from the rest of the world.
"How's 'Psychohistory' going?" Moon asked after a while.
"Better than I expected. I've got a new angle on Quayle.
If I talk about myself, that seems to draw him out. It gives him enough confidence to let him open his mind to me. We may have those first chapters ready for Oldfield, in spite of everything."
"Good. Just the same, he can't rush us. If we've got to shoot out books that fast, we might as well go back to the days of semantic confusion. Which we won't!"
"Well," Burkhalter said, getting up, "I'll smoosh along. See you."
"About Reilly-"
"Let it lay." Burkhalter went out, heading for the address his visor had listed. He touched the dagger at his belt. Dueling wouldn't do for Baldies, but-
A greeting thought crept into his mind, and, under the arch that led into the campus, he paused to grin at Sam Shane, a New Orleans area Baldy who affected a wig of flaming red. They didn't bother to talk.
Personal question, involving mental, moral and physical well-being.
A satisfied glow. And you, Burkhalter? For an instant Burkhalter half-saw what the symbol of his name meant to Shane.
Shadow of trouble.
A warm, willing anxiousness to help. There was a bond between Baldies.
Burkhalter thought: But everywhere I'd go there'd be the same suspicion. We're freaks.
More so elsewhere, Shane thought. There are a lot of us in Modoc Town. People are invariably more suspicous where they're not in daily contact with-Us.
The boy-I've trouble too, Shane thought. It's worried me. My two girls-
Delinquency?
Yes.
Common denominators?
Don't know. More than one of Us have had the same trouble with our kids.
Secondary characteristic of the mutation? Second generation emergence?
Doubtful, Shane thought, scowling in his mind, shading his concept with a wavering question. We'll think it over later. Must go.
Burkhalter sighed and went on his way. The houses were strung out around the central industry of Modoc, and he cut through a park toward his destination. It was a sprawling curved building, but it wasn't inhabited, so Burkhalter filed Reilly for future reference, and, with a glance at his timer, angled over a hillside toward the school. As he expected, it was recreation time, and he spotted Al lounging under a tree, some distance from his companions, who were involved in a pleasantly murderous game of Blowup.
He sent his thought ahead.