"C. L. Moore - Greater Than Gods" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore C. L)

and Sue must know why he did what he must do-though he didn't understand
himself, yet, what that would be. His head was ringing with bewilderment.
"The . . . the Plane of Probability?" In Dunn's eyes upon his he saw a
momentary conviction flare that, reality or not, and history be damned, this
man was mad. And then, doubtfully, the Leader went on, "Hm-m-m - . . yes,
somewhere I have heard- Oh, I remember. Some clap-trap jargon the old
Telepathy House fakers used to use before we cleared them out of Science City.
But what's that nonsense got to-"
"It's not nonsense." Bill closed his eyes in a sudden, almost intolerable
longing for peace, for time to think what he must do. But no, the thing must
be settled now, without time for thinking. And perhaps that was the best way,
after all. A man's brain would crack if he paused to think out this madness.
Only he must say something to young Billy- And what could he say? How could he
face either of these beloved children and, to their uncomprehending, pleading
faces, refuse them life? If he could only break the connection that riveted
them all into a sort of triple time balance- But he couldn't. He must make it
clear to Billy- "It's not nonsense," he heard his own voice repeating wildly.
"The
future-you and your world-is a probability only. I'm a free agent. If I never
marry Marta, never perfect the sex-determination idea, the probable future
shifts to . . . to another pattern. And that as bad as yours, or worse!" he
finished to himself.
"Is he mad?" Billy's voice was a whisper in the screen.
The Leader said as if to himself, in an awed and stumbling voice, "I don't . .
. I can't . . . the thing's preposterous! And yet he is unmarried, the Great
Work's still unfinished. Suppose he never- But we're real! We're flesh and
blood, aren't we? He stamped a booted
foot on the floor as if to test the foundations of his world. "We're descended
in an unbroken line from this . . . this madman. Lord in heaven, are we all
mad?"
"Father! Come back!" Sue's voice shrilled in Bill's ears. He turned
desperately, glad of an excuse to escape the haunted stares from that other
window even though he must face hers. She had risen to her feet among the
myrtle leaves. The glade was cool and still about her in this lazy, sunlit
world of her own future. She was crying desperately, "Don't listen, father! I
can feel the confusion in your mind. I know what they're saying! But they
aren't real, father-they can't be! You never had a son, don't you remember?
All this you're saying is just. . . just talk, isn't it? That silly stuff
about the Probability Plane
-it's nothing but speculation! Oh, say it is, father! We've got such a lovely
world, we love living so. . . I want to live, father! I am real! We've fought
so hard, for so many centuries, for peace and happiness and our beautiful
garden world. Don't let it snuff out into nothingness! But"-she laughed
uncertainly-"how could you, when it's all around us, and has been for
thousands of years? I. . . oh, father!" Her voice broke on a little quivering
gulp that made Bill's heart quiver with it, and he ached intolerably with the
rising of her tears. She was his to protect and cherish, forever. How could
he- "Dr. Gory-do you hear me? Oh, please listen!" Young Billy's familiar voice
reached out to him from that other future. He glanced toward him once, and
then put his hands to his ears and whirled from them both, the two voices