"Jerry Oltion - The Miracle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Oltion Jerry)

Tom looked up at the sky. It was mostly blue, with just a few puffy clouds off
near the horizon. "Well, if we were in lightning territory I'd say there was a
big static buildup here, but since we get maybe two thunderstorms a year in this
part of the country, I don't think that's very likely."

"This isn't very likely," Dan pointed out.

"True. And it's got to be something like that. I think those sparks we were
seeing were ball lightning."

Dan was a geology student. He said, "You get ball lightning from earthquakes
sometimes."

Tom nodded. "Yeah, but we haven't had an earthquake around here in years."

"Not true," Dan said. "We get little ones all the time. We had one three days
ago, in fact; one-point-six on the Richter scale. That's barely big enough to
feel, but it might still be enough to generate ball lightning."

"But we got some just now," Tom pointed out. "And Greg got some yesterday, too.
So unless we're getting a whole string of little quakes timed perfectly for our
amusement -- I don't think that's it." He let go of the bush and stood up. "I
think it's regular static electricity. When I got zapped, it was because my
tennis shoes were insulating me from the ground. I didn't have a charge until I
touched the rock with my hand, but then I did and that's why I didn't get
shocked when I touched the bush. I was already charged up. Probably still am.
Anybody want to test the theory?" He reached out toward Dan.

Carefully, like the alien and the kid in the movie ET, Tom and Dan stretched out
their index fingers toward one another. When they were a quarter of an inch or
so apart, a spark leaped between them and Dan jerked his hand back.

"Hah," Tom said. "Static electricity."

"That doesn't mean God isn't behind it," Brian said defiantly.

"God is a generator" Greg asked.

"Maybe a big battery," Dan said.

"Or a crashed UFO buried in the hill," Tom said, "with its nuclear reactor still
going."

"Get real," Brian demanded, but he Was drowned out in the laughter as his
relieved roommates speculated on the nature of God.
All the way back down the hill, they tried to top each other. "The mother of all
Van de Graaf generators," one would say, and someone else would say, "Cats.
Hundreds of cats rubbing up against glass rods."

BUT GOD, it turned out, was a burning bush. Or so claimed the horde of pilgrims