"John D. MacDonald - Susceptibility" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacDonald John D)

Susceptibility
By John D. MacDonald
The colonists on this world needed help urgently. It was as if they had deliberately decided to set
their civilization back to some harsh era out of the past!
An A\NN/A Preservation Edition.
Notes



SEAN MALLOY stood unnoticed at the edge of the clearing and frowned as he watched the girl
work. Exposure to the rays of the yellow-white sun, half again the size of Sol, had turned her to copper
bronze, against which the mane of yellow hair was quite startling. He found that he was taking pleasure in
watching the smooth play of muscles in her naked back as she swung the instrument against the tree.
Each stroke bit out a chunk of the soft yellowish wood, veined with green. Exertion had put a sheen of
perspiration on her shoulders.
The proper paleolingual word eluded him. Suddenly he remembered. Of courseтАФit was an ax.
The sound of it, biting into the wood, resounded across the clearing, a sharp, metronomic sound. He
heard the crackle of fibers and saw her step back from the tree. Sean Malloy glanced up then, and saw
the great mass of branches and leaves sway toward him. He gave a gasp of alarm, and forgetting all the
dignity of a Praecursor from the Colonial Adjustments Bureau, he ran at right angles to the line of fall.
After fifty feet of surprising fleetness, he struck a hummock of grass and fell just at the moment the tree
thundered to the ground, so close behind him that the end of a branch rapped him smartly across the
shoulders. He crawled out from under the leaves and stood up. The tall woman was hurrying toward him,
buttoning on a shirt of coarse fabric, quick concern in her eyes.
тАЬYouтАЩre not hurt?тАЭ
тАЬIt so happens that IтАЩm not,тАЭ he said acidly.
He saw her glance take in his uniform, the CAB seal, the tiny gold question mark of the Praecursor
blazoned upon it. She no longer looked concerned.

Illustrated by James Vincent


тАЬPeople who wait for trees to fall on them generally get hurt,тАЭ she said indifferently.
тАЬI am Sean Malloy, Praecursor. They told me, in the village, that I should talk to you. You are Deen
Thomason?тАЭ
She nodded. She looked regretfully at the tree. тАЬI suppose I can just as well finish it tomorrow. Come
along, Malloy.тАЭ
She shouldered the ax and headed across the clearing to the mouth of a narrow trail. Her stride was
long. Once again Malloy found himself taking a rather surprising pleasure in watching her. He made a
mental note to apply, on his return to the Bureau, for deep psychological analysis. Praecursors who
became emotionally involved with colonial women suffered a loss of efficiency. It would be wise to have
this susceptibility tracked down and eliminated. In the meantime, to take his attention away from the
swing of her walk, he asked hastily, тАЬWhat were you planning to do with the tree, Thomason?тАЭ
тАЬCut off the branches today, saw it tomorrow, then split it and carry the pieces back to my place.тАЭ
 тАЬBut why?тАЭ he asked, baffled.


SHE stopped so suddenly that he almost ran into her. She turned around and he saw a mixture of
amusement and irony in her gray eyes.
тАЬOur winter season is coming, Malloy,тАЭ she said. тАЬI burn the wood in order to keep warm.тАЭ