"Geoff Ryman - The Unconquered Country" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ryman Geoff)

"Now, Third, look. One. One stalk. Not many stalks. Just one stalk by itself," said
the teacher, and smiled, and watched. "That is one."
It was like a door beginning to open, and it was as if Third slammed it shut. Third
was in terror, though she did not know why.
"Now, Third. Two. Two yarrow stalks."
Lips pressed together, Third jammed all the stalks back together in a bunch.
"No, no. Two. See? Only two."
Blindly this time, Third reached for the yarrow, and the teacher took hold of her
hands, and pushed them away. She picked up the yarrow stalks and hid them behind
her back. Third tried to reach around her, one quick, tiny hand after another. The
teacher had to use both hands to fend her off. The yarrow stalks were left behind her
on the mat. Third sat back. The teacher relaxed. Third leapt forward, and grabbed a
fistful of the yarrow, and the teacher laughed.
Third made a fan, one yarrow stalk between each finger. Still chuckling, shaking her
head, the teacher grabbed the yarrow and used them as levers to prize apart Third's
fingers.
"Sit there," the teacher said, and pushed Third back. "Now. One. Two. Three." She
laid the stalks down, but far apart, in parallel lines that Third knew could never meet.
Third. Three stalks together made three parts of a whole. These did not. Third
under-stood, and she did not want to. As if tearing through flesh, the teacher was
rending the numbers apart. She was making them alone.
Third turned and tried to run. The teacher yelped with laughter, and grabbed her, and
hugged her, con-trolled her by hugging her.
"You won't get away that easily," said the teacher, grinning.
Third wanted to hit her. She wanted to yell and scream and get away, but she could
do none of those things. She was frozen. She was going to have to count.
"Give me numbers," whispered the teacher.
"One ... two ... three," Third said, looking down, in a tiny and wan little voice.
For some reason, the teacher was disappointed. "Oh," the teacher said, and dropped
her arms, and gave Third a little pat. "Good. That was simple, wasn't it? Now you
can count. And after that is four and five." The teacher laid down more stalks. "See?
Four and five. Say 'Four and five,' Third."
"Four and five," murmured Third, and every-thing around her seemed bated, like
breath.
"Now say them all together, all the numbers."
Let me go, Third's eyes pleaded, but the teacher pretended not to understand. The
teacher kept it up, all the way to ten. In the end, it was the teacher who had to leave.
Third was left alone, under the screen, quick night having fallen. She was afraid to
move.
Something terrible had happened to the num-bers. They wouldn't work. Third tried
to drive the yarrow in her mind, but as soon as they touched on any one of the new
numbers, they were snagged by some-thing. They stopped, and had to start again,
grew con-fused, or were left naked, hanging, and Third realized she had never really
understood how they danced their way to answers. They were going away, like
friends.
She walked to her cousin's house, taking tiny steps. She was frightened that if she
ran, she would disturb the numbers more.
They were eating at her cousin's house, but Third gave no words of greeting and did
not take off her shoes. She walked very carefully to her cousin, and dropped to her
knees next to him and folded herself up into a tight, supplicant little ball. She was