"Mack Reynolds - After Utopia" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reynolds Mack)

driver, who looked at him strangely for only a brief
moment and then took off. Tracy Cogswell had given
him, in way of a tip, the last francs he had in his pockets.
For a moment, Tracy Cogswell stared out over the sea,
watching the beer-head waves break in their desperation
against the volcanic rock that lined the shore at this
point. Some of the grottos could be seen here. He could
see the Grottos of Hercules, where the mythological
Greek hero had supposedly lived while throwing up the
Pillars of Hercules and seeking the Golden Apples of the
Hesperides. Probably the worldтАЩs strongest man had
never existed, but Neolithic remains in the grottos
indicated that humans had been here long before the
Greeks had infiltrated the peninsula that now bears their
name.
He took up his suitcase and walked the mile or so to
the monument he had constructed. He entered it and
bolted the heavy door behind him.
His conscious mind was beginning to find a horror that
surpassed anything he had suffered thus far. He realized
that the culmination of all that had gone on for these
past weeks was now upon him. And he still had no
conception of what he was about.
 Tracy Cogswell brought the entrenching tool from his
bag, unfolded it, and began to dig. In about two hours he
had broken through to a chamber beneath: a natural
chamber, related to the larger grottos in the vicinity.
He tugged and levered his large metal box until he was
finally able to lower it into the small cave. He set up a
heavy flashlight, brought forth his tools and began
attaching the equipment heтАЩd labored upon so long to the
various entries and nipples that had obviously been built
to receive it. He worked for many hours.
Finally, it was through. Somehow he knew it was
through.
With the entrenching tool, he then began steps to close
the caveтАЩs narrow entrance behind him. To bury himself
alive !
He strained mentally, his mind screaming its agony,
without effect. He worked, zombielike, heedless of his
growing horror, his pyramiding, mind-shattering horror.
When it was done, he climbed into the metal box. And
now he understood. The container which looked like a
coffin was exactly that.
He brought a hypodermic needle from a set that he had
purchased a week before, filled it with a combination of
drugs he had concocted several days before, and pressed
it home in his left arm.
He leaned back, closed the metal top above him, flicked
the lugs securely andтАФhis true mind collapsing within