"Judith Merril - That Only A Mother" - читать интересную книгу автора (Merril Judith)

That Only A Mother

By Judith Merril

Margaret reached over to the other side of the bed where Hank should have
been. Her hand patted the empty pillow, and then she came altogether awake,
wondering that the old habit should remain after so many months. She tried to curl
up, cat-style, to hoard her own warmth, found she couldn't do it any more, and
climbed out of bed with a pleased awareness of her increasingly clumsy bulkiness.
Morning motions were automatic. On the way through the kitchenette, she
pressed the button that would start breakfast cookingтАФthe doctor had said to eat
as much breakfast as she couldтАФand tore the paper out of the facsimile machine.
She folded the long sheet carefully to the "National News" section, and propped it
on the bathroom shelf to scan while she brushed her teeth.
No accidents. No direct hits. At least none that had been officially released for
publication. Now, Maggie, don't get started on that. No accidents. No hits. Take
the nice newspaper's word for it.
The three clear chimes from the kitchen announced that breakfast was ready.
She set a bright napkin and cheerful colored dishes on the table in a futile attempt
to appeal to a faulty morning appetite. Then, when there was nothing more to
prepare, she went for the mail, allowing herself the full pleasure of prolonged
anticipation, because today there would surely be a letter.
There was. There were. Two bills and a worried note from her mother:
"Darling, why didn't you write and tell me sooner? I'm thrilled, of course, but,
well one hates to mention these things, but are you certain the doctor was right?
Hank's been around all that uranium or thorium or whatever it is all these years, and
I know you say he's a designer, not a technician, and he doesn't get near anything
that might be dangerous, but you know he used to, back at Oak Ridge. Don't you
think, of course, I'm just being a foolish old woman, and I don't want you to get
upset. You know much more about it than I do, and I'm sure your doctor was
right. He should knowтАж"
Margaret made a face over the excellent coffee, and caught herself refolding the
paper to the medical news.
Stop it, Maggie, stop it! The radiologist said Hank's job couldn't have
exposed him. And the bombed area we drove pastтАжNo, no. Stop it, now! Read
the social notes or the recipes, Maggie girl.
A well-known geneticist, in the medical news, said that it was possible to tell
with absolute certainty, at five months, whether the child would be normal, or at
least whether the mutation was likely to produce anything freakish. The worst
cases, at any rate, could be prevented. Minor mutations, of course, displacements
in facial features, or changes in brain structure could not be detected. And there
had been some cases recently, of normal embryos with atrophied limbs that did not
develop beyond the seventh or eighth month. But, the doctor concluded cheerfully,
the worst cases could now be predicted and prevented.
"Predicted and prevented." We predicted it, didn't we? Hank and the others,
they predicted it. But we didn't prevent it. We could have stopped if in '46 and
'47. NowтАж
Margaret decided against the breakfast. Coffee had been enough for her in the
morning for ten years; it would have to do for today. She buttoned herself into
interminable folds of material that, the salesgirl had assured her, was the only