"Stanislaw Lem - The Offer Of King Krool" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lem Stanislaw)

large (evidently designed for great leaps), lay upon the grass alongside the tail, which ended
in a firearm with its magazine half-emptyтАФa clear sign that the creature had not fallen to the
King without a fight. A yellow strip of cloth hanging from its open jaws also testified to this,
for Trurl recognized in it the breeches worn by the King's huntsmen.
Next was another prone monstrosity, a dragon with a multitude of tiny wings all singed and
blackened by enemy fire; its circuits had spilled out molten and had then congealed in a
copper-porcelain puddle. Farther on stood another creature, the pillarlike legs spread wide. A
gentle breeze soughed softly through its fangs. And there were wrecks on wheels and wrecks
on treads, some with claws and some with cannon, all sundered to the magnetic core, and
tank-turtles with squashed turrets, and mutilated military millipedes, and other oddities,
broken and battle-scarred, some equipped with auxiliary brains (burnt out), some perched on
telescoping stilts (dislocated), and there were little vicious biting things strewn about. These
had been made to attack in great swarms, then regroup in a sphere bristling with gun muzzles
and bayonetsтАФa clever idea, but it saved neither them nor their creators.
Down this aisle of devastation walked Trurl and Klapaucius, pale, silent, looking as if they
were on their way to a funeral instead of to another brilliant session of vigorous invention.
They came at last to the end of that dreadful gallery of Krool's triumphs and stepped into the
carriage that was waiting for them at the gate. That dragon team which sped them back to
their lodgings seemed less terrible now. Just as soon as they were alone in their sumptuously
appointed green and crimson drawing room, before a table heaped high with effervescent
drinks and rare delicacies, Trurl broke into a volley of imprecations; he reviled Klapaucius for
heedlessly accepting the offer made by the Master of the Royal Hunt, thereby bringing down
misfortune on their heads, when they easily could have stayed at home and rested on their
laurels. Klapaucius said nothing, waiting patiently for Trurl's desperate rage to expend itself,
and when it finally did and Trurl had collapsed into a lavish mother-of-pearl chaise lounge and
buried his face in his hands, he said:
тАЬWell, we'd better get to work.тАЭ
These words did much to revive Trurl, and the two constructors immediately began to
consider the various possibilities, drawing on their knowledge of the deepest and darkest
secrets of the arcane art of cybernetic generation.


Brainstorming a Beast

First of all, they agreed that victory lay neither in the armor nor in the strength of the
monster to be built, but entirely in its program; in other words, in an algorithm of demoniacal
derivation. тАЬIt must be a truly diabolical creature, a thing of absolute evil,тАЭ they said, and
though they had as yet ┬╣clear idea of what or how, this observation lifted their spirits
considerably. Such was their enthusiasm by the time they sat down to draft the beast, that
they worked all night, all day, and through a second night and day before taking a break for
dinner.
And as the Leyden jars were passed about, so sure were they of success, that they
winked and smirked тАФbut only when the servants weren't looking, since they suspected them
(and rightly, too) of being the King's spies. So the constructors said nothing of their work, but
praised the mulled electrolyte which the waiters brought in, tail coats flapping, in beakers of
the finest cut crystal. Only after the repast, when they had wandered out on the veranda
overlooking the village with its white steeples and domes catching the last golden rays of the
setting sun, only then did Trurl turn to Klapaucius and say:
тАЬWe're not out of the woods yet, you know.тАЭ
тАЬHow do you mean?тАЭ asked Klapaucius in a cautious whisper.