"MD Spenser - Humano Morphs 4 Air Morph One" - читать интересную книгу автора (Spenser M D)

I would have liked to have handled the flood
emergency that year so I could have gotten elected president the next year, but I was too young to handle the emergency Ч and too young to be president, too.
You have to be thirty-five to get elected president.
I think that takes away from the democratic rights of voters. If everybody in the country wants to vote for a twelve-year-old kid for president, they ought to be able to. That's their choice. They're allowed to vote for total idiots, aren't they?
To rule kids out is discrimination, in my opinion.
This particular day, though, my views on the Constitution of the United States were not particularly relevant. I had a science field trip to take. While I know a lot about the presidents, I know darn little about science.
The only thing I know about it is that, judging from the kids who are good at it, studying science must give you zits. Lots of them.


Chapter Three

The white cement walls of the Nacirema Dairy Production and Research Center loomed before us.
Mrs. Ziggernaut, our seventh grade science teacher whom everyone called Mrs. Ziggersnot, had brought us to see a cow milking factory.
Oh, joy.
Everyone in Atkinson has seen a cow milked. Actually, everyone in Atkinson has probably milked a cow personally, now that I think about it.
But Mrs. Ziggersnot said this brand new dairy factory was a state-of-the-art place, using the latest scientific methods, and it was worth seeing.
"OK, now we've seen it," I muttered to my friend Freddy as we piled out of the school bus. "Can we leave now?"
"Come on, Melvin," Freddy said. "This is going to be really neat Ч to anyone with an open mind, that is."
I gave him a punch in the shoulder. Freddy was my best friend, even if he did like science.
He and I had known each other since first grade. People say we usually choose friends who are similar to us. You know, birds of a feather flock together.
Well, that wasn't true of Freddy and me. We were different in lots of ways. I was always trying Ч and failing Ч to convince him that the presidents were very interesting.
He was always trying Ч and failing Ч to convince me that science is simply fascinating.
I was kind of an extrovert. I talked and joked a lot. I liked to be the center of attention.
Freddy was kind of an introvert. He didn't say much, and he didn't joke that much either, though he kidded around with me sometimes. He rarely took center stage, preferring to observe things quietly from the sidelines.
I'm white. I have blond hair, with a cowlick that sticks up on the back of my head, and I get freckles in the summer.
Freddy is an Omaha Indian. He has dark skin, piercing brown eyes, and black hair done into a long braid. He was also one of the rare exceptions to the science-gives-you-zits rule.
But I suppose we had some similarities, even if they weren't apparent on the surface.
We were both pretty bright. I did well in social studies and English, and coasted along in my other classes. Freddy did well in science and math, and coasted along in the rest.
The main thing, I think, is that we were both honest. With Freddy, you always knew where you stood. I liked that. He always knew where I stood, too. Neither one of us played games, like being nice to people we were really angry with, or anything like that.
And we were both pretty forgiving. We'd get mad at each other, but we'd get over it. When the argument was done, it was over for good. Neither one of us held grudges.
"Yeah, right," I said to him as we stood by the bus. "This will be really neat. A scientific milking factory."
He gave me a shove, and I pretended I was going to punch him again.
"Boys! Boys!" Mrs. Ziggersnot called out, which I thought was kind of a ridiculous thing to say. I felt like replying, "Yes, indeed we are, Mrs. Zigger-naut! How did you ever guess?"
But I kept quiet, which was probably a good thing for me.
Mrs. Ziggersnot kept trying to get us to line up two-by-two, like little soldiers on parade. We kept ignoring her. Finally she gave up and led us up to the double glass doors of the huge cement building.
The doors were locked, bolted fast.


Chapter Four

The Nacirema Dairy Production and Research Center stood white and massive right on the banks of the Elkhorn River. Sun glinted off the surface of the water as it flowed behind the factory, winking and twinkling in the reflected blue of the sky.
Wide fields spread on either side of the dairy center. I supposed that was where the cows grazed when they weren't inside getting scientifically milked.
The whole area was surrounded by a huge wire fence. Our bus driver had been required to show a special pass when we entered the gate.
I remembered when construction workers had swarmed into the area to build the factory. I went down to try to get a look a couple of times, but they wouldn't allow anyone near. I guess it was a safety regulation; maybe they were afraid of getting sued if someone got hurt and wasn't wearing a hard-hat.
It surprised me that they were building the place so close to the river, I figured that was because
they were all from out of town. They hadn't heard the stories the old-timers tell at Melvin's Barbershop, or seen them point to the old water marks from the floods of long ago.
But, I thought, hey, if the place floods Ч or, I should say, when the place floods Ч they'll find out soon enough. There will be a lot of panicked cows, I thought, though I couldn't imagine cows managing to climb onto the roof the way all the dogs had.
Some kids ahead of me were yanking on the doors. "Hey, Mrs. Ziggernaut, it's locked!" they shouted. No one called her Mrs. Ziggersnot to her face.
"Can we leave now?" I muttered to Freddy.
He just looked at me and rolled his eyes.