"RESNICK, Mike - The Land of Nod" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

"Of the elephant?"
"Of Ahmed."
"I am sorry," I said.
"We cannot all be _mundumugus_," he answered. "When you are
my age in a culture that worships youth, you take what is offered
to you."
"True," I said. I looked back at the elephant. "I wonder if
he has any memories of his former life? Of the days when he was
the greatest of all living creatures, and Mount Marsabit was his
kingdom."
"He knows nothing of Marasbit," answered Kamau. "But he knows
something is wrong. He knows he was not born to spend his life in
a tiny yard, surrounded by a glowing force field." He paused.
"Sometimes, late at night, he faces the north and lifts his trunk
and cries out his loneliness and misery. To the technicians it is
just an annoyance. Usually they tell me to feed him, as if food
will assuage his sorrow. It is not even _real_ food, but something
they have concocted in their laboratories."
"He does not belong here," I agreed.
"I know," said Kamau. "But then, neither do you, _mzee_. You
should be back on Kirinyaga, living as the Kikuyu were meant to
live."
I frowned. "No one on Kirinyaga is living as the Kikuyu were
meant to live." I sighed deeply. "I think perhaps the time for
_mundumugus_ is past."
"This cannot be true," he protested. "Who else can be the
repository of our traditions, the interpretor of our laws?"
"Our traditions are as dead as _his_," I said, gesturing
toward Ahmed. Then I turned back to Kamau. "Do you mind if I ask
you a question?"
"Certainly not, _mundumugu_."
"I am glad you sought me out, and I have enjoyed our
conversations since I returned to Kenya," I told him. "But
something puzzles me: since you feel so strongly about the Kikuyu,
why did I not know you during our struggle to find a homeland? Why
did you remain behind when we emigrated to Kirinyaga?"
I could see him wrestling with himself to produce an answer.
Finally the battle was over, and the old man seemed to shrink an
inch or two.
"I was terrified," he admitted.
"Of the spaceship?" I asked.
"No."
"Then what frightened you?"
Another internal struggle, and then an answer: "_You_ did,
_mzee_."
"Me?" I repeated, surprised.
"You were always so sure of yourself," he said. "Always such
a perfect Kikuyu. You made me afraid that I wasn't good enough."
"That was ridiculous," I said firmly.
"Was it?" he countered. "My wife was a Catholic. My son and