"Doris Piserchia - A Billion Days of Earth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Piserchia Doris)

"You have my sympathy," said Sheen.
"The way they behave isn't as bad as the way they
think! A person could go mad trying to make sense of that. The world of reason is a terrifying place."
"I can see you're worried."
"Anyone would be. You never know what they're think-ing. You knock yourself out trying to please them and they
treat you like dirt."
"I know what you mean."
"They never give you a chance! Everything is geared to the almighty carrot. Goddamn it, there are other things worth
living for. Just because a fellow has had a few hard knocks and is having trouble getting onto his feet is no rea-son to
consider him inferior."
"I agree," said the shiny one.
"If they would only tell me what they want! If they'd just sit down with me and make a list of do's and don't's. I'd work
my ass off learning the rules. By God, they'd have to go a million miles to find somebody willing to work harder."
Sheen glittered, swayed in the air. "Come to me, tare, and I will give you peace."
"No."
"Then give me back my picture. I didn't offer it. You took it"
The tare spoke to the picture in his mind. "Go, before you become my downfall." At once it began to fade. The tare felt
a pang of sorrow. The picture contained every frag-ment of his dreams. Now he knew reality was as drab as he had
suspected. As the picture drifted farther from him, he experienced panic. Terror at life's grayness captured him.
He snatched the picture close again, glared at Sheen. "It's mine! Give it to me with no strings attached. I need it."
"I am I and greater than you," said Sheen. "I see the difference between having my cake and eating it, too. You will be
my first conquest."
"I don't want to die," whimpered the tare.
"You won't die. You'll live."
"It will be a living death. No one but you could do such a thing."
"I repeat, you are free to go."
"I can't give it up." The words came through chattering teeth. The tare's eyes rolled back in his head and his body
convulsed. "Somebody tell me what to do!"
"Come," said Sheen, and reached.
"No!" screamed the tare. Even as he said it, he was sur-rendering.
The gleaming figure hovered in the air. "Poor little bunny; a living, breathing conflict. The living and the breath-ing will
continue but the conflict will cease."
The tare's face was a rigid mask. "Come closer," he moaned, and Sheen touched his shoulder, flowed. "Draw nearer
that I might feel the sheen of you. How cold, how glorious. Know me as no long-lashed lover could ever know me. Fill
my body with pleasure and my mind with joy." He gave a weak scream as the silver covered him. "No, I can't give that
up! You didn't explain! Take me, but don't take that!"
Sheen consumed the tare's will.
"How could I possess one without the other?" he said, and his tone was puzzled. "Didn't it know they were one and
the same?"
There was no response to his remarks. He was alone.
Presently the tare began to walk; or so it seemed. Actu-ally it was Sheen who moved and left the large remainder of his
self in the field of grass. Inside an exterior of silver, the tare dwelt in a dream of his own making.
By and by, Sheen approached the jare. It was the de-scendant of a turtle. Nearly three million years of evolving had
given it the ability to open or close its thick shell when-ever it pleased. Large and black and intelligent, it lay with its
bare back exposed to the sun. Like the tare, this creature had never, until today, conversed with anyone other than its
own kind.
"I love you," said Sheen.
"Oh, go on with you," said the embarrassed jare. It slowly closed its shell, just in case. "I'm not that attractive. Besides,
you're a tare and we don't fraternize with your kind. By the way, what kind of tare are you with that fancy coat of
silver? I've never seen anything like you."