"Rusch-WithoutEnd" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rusch Kristine Kathryn)

"Dammit. The little shit!" Geneva's voice rose on the last syllable, so Dylan
knew she wasn't upset, just inconvenienced. He came out of his office to find
her standing by the front door, hands against her hips. "Cat's out,"she said.

He glanced out the door. The cat sat on the porch huddled against the rain,
acting as if the world had betrayed her by getting her wet. He picked her up and
carried her inside, closing the door with his foot.

Geneva reached beyond him and locked the bolt.

"There's no need," he said. "Door's closed."

Geneva grinned at him. He dropped the cat and she scampered into the living
room, pausing at the end of the couch to dean the vile wetness off her fur.

"Little shit," Geneva said again. She was staring at the cat fondly. "She
figured out the door. I came out here in time to see her grasp the knob in both
paws and turn."

"Cats can't do that," he said.

"No. Dogs can't. Cats think differently." She kissed him lightly on the nose.
"Imagine, being trapped by your mental abilities. A cat can get out of a
man-made trap. A dog can't."

Then she smiled as if she had solved the riddle of the universe, went back into
her office, and closed the door.

He had chalk on his hands. Facing all those clean, bright students, he felt
rumpled and old. Most of them sat before him because his elective brought them
three credits. Only a handful liked to grasp the elemental questions as much as
he did. He rubbed his hands together, saw chalk motes drift in the fluorescent
light.

"The Deists believed in a clockmaker god," he said, leaning against the metal
lip of the blackboard. "A god who invented the world, then sat back and watched
it play, like a great ticking clock. Jefferson believed in Deism. Some say that
was why he became a great political philosopher-- he believed that God no longer
intervened in his creation, so the creation had to govern itself."

Dylan paused, remembering Geneva's face when he had discussed this with her, so
many years ago. None of the students had her sharpness, her quick fascination
with things of the mind. He waited for someone to raise a hand, to ask why those
who believed in God the clockmaker didn't believe in predetermination, but no
one asked. He couldn't go into his long explanation without prompting, and he
didn't feel like prompting himself.

He waved a hand, almost said, "Never mind," but didn't. "Read chapters thirteen
and fourteen," he said to those blank faces, "and write me a paper about the