"Lem, Stanislaw - Solaris" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lem Stanislaw)

"Listen," he said abruptly, "except for me there's no one around for the moment. You'll have to make do with my company for today. Call me Ratface; don't argue. You know me by my photograph, just imagine we're old friends. Everyone calls me Ratface, there's nothing I can do about it."
Obstinately, I repeated my question:
"Where is Gibarian?"
He blinked again.
"I'm sorry to have received you like that. It's . . . it's not exactly my fault. I had completely forgotten . . . A lot has been happening here, you see . . ."
"It's all right. But what about Gibarian? Isn't he on the Station? Is he on an observation flight?"
Snow was gazing at a tangled mass of cables.
"No, he hasn't left the Station. And he won't be flying. The fact is . . . ."
My ears were still blocked, and I was finding it more and more difficult to hear.
"What? What do you mean? Where is he then?"
"I should think you might guess," he answered in a changed voice, looking me coldly in the eyes. I shivered. He was drunk, but he knew what he was saying.
"There's been an accident?"
He nodded vigorously, watching my reactions closely.
"When?"
"This morning, at dawn."
By now, my sensations were less violent; this succinct exchange of questions and answers had calmed me. I was beginning to understand Snow's strange behavior.
"What kind of accident?"
"Why not go to your cabin and take off your spacesuit? Come back in, say, an hour's time."
I hesitated.
"All right," I said finally.
As I made to leave, he called me back.
"Wait!" He had an uneasy look, as if he wanted to add something but was finding it difficult to bring out the words. After a pause, he said:
"There used to be three of us here. Now, with you, there are three of us again. Do you know Sartorius?"
"In the same way as I knew you Ч only from his photographs."
"He's up there, in the laboratory, and I doubt if he'll come down before dark, but . . . In any case, you'll recognize him. If you should see anyone else Ч someone who isn't me or Sartorius, you understand, then . . ."
"Then what?"
I must be dreaming. All this could only be a dream! The inky waves, their crimson gleams under the low-hanging sun, and this little man who had gone back to his armchair, sitting there as before, hanging his head and staring at the heap of cables.
"In that case, do nothing."
"Who could I see?" I flared up. "A ghost?"
"You think I'm mad, of course. No, no, I'm not mad. I can't say anything more for the moment. Perhaps . . . who knows? . . . Nothing will happen. But don't forget I warned you."
"Don't be so mysterious. What's all this about?"
"Keep a hold on yourself. Be prepared to meet . . . anything. It sounds impossible I know, but try. It's the only advice I can give you. I can't think of anything better."
"But what could I possibly meet?" I shouted.
Seeing him sitting there, looking sideways at me, his sunburnt face drooping with fatigue, I found it difficult to contain myself. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him.
Painfully, dragging the words out one by one, he answered:
"I don't know. In a way, it depends on you."
"Hallucinations, you mean?"
"No . . . it's real enough. Don't attack. Whatever you do, remember that!"
"What are you getting at?" I could hardly recognize the sound of my own voice.
"We're not on Earth, you know."
"A Polytherian form?" I shouted. "There's nothing human about them!"
I was about to rush at him, to drag him out of the trance, prompted, apparently, by his crazy theories, when he murmured:
"That's why they're so dangerous. Remember what I've told you, and be on your guard!"
"What happened to Gibarian?"
He did not answer.
"What is Sartorius doing?"
"Come back in an hour."
I turned and went out. As I closed the door behind me, I took a last look at him. Tiny, shrunken, his head in his hands and his elbows resting on his stained knees, he sat there, motionless. It was only then that I noticed the dried bloodstains on the backs of his hands.