"Theodore Sturgeon - Microcosmic God" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sturgeon Theodore)

тАЬYou will not. Why bother me with it? IтАЩm quite happy here, Conant, and one of
the reasons is that IтАЩve got no one to get in my hair.тАЭ
тАЬOh, now, Kidder-donтАЩt be like that-IтАЩll pay you-тАЭ
тАЬYou havenтАЩt got that much money,тАЭ said Kidder briskly. He flipped the switch on
his set. His switch worked.

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 MICROCOSMIC GOD


Conant was furious. He shouted into the phone several times, then began to lean
on the signal button. On his island, Kidder let the thing squeal and went back to
his projection room. He was sorry he had sent the diagram of the receiver to
Conant. It would have been interesting to power a plane or a car with the model
transmitter he had taken from the Neoterics. But if Conant was going to be that
way about it-well, anyway, the receiver would be no good without the transmitter.
Any radio engineer would understand the diagram, but not the beam which
activated it. And Conant wouldnтАЩt get his beam.
Pity he didnтАЩt know Conant well enough.

KidderтАЩs days were endless sorties into learning. He never slept, nor did his
Neoterics. He ate regularly every five hours, exercised for half an hour in every
twelve. He did not keep track of time, for it meant nothing to him. Had he wanted
to know the date, or the year, even, he knew he could get it from Conant. He
didnтАЩt care, thatтАЩs all. The time that was not spent in observation was used in
developing new problems for the Neoterics. His thoughts just now ran to defense.
The idea was born in his con-versation with Conant; now the idea was primary, its
motivation something of no importance. The Neoterics were working on a
vibration field of quasi-electrical nature. Kidder could see little practical value in
such a thing- an invisible wall which would kill any living thing which touched it.
But still-the idea was intriguing.
He stretched and moved away from the telescope in the upper room through
which he had been watching his crea-tions at work. He was profoundly happy
here in the large control room. Leaving it to go to the old laboratory for a bite to
eat was a thing he hated, to do. He felt like bidding it good-by each time he
walked across the compound, and saying a glad hello when he returned. A little
amused at himself, he went out.
There was a black blob-a distant power boat-a few miles off the island, toward the
mainland. Kidder stopped and stared distastefully at it. A white petal of spray was
affixed to each side of the black body-it was coming toward him. He snorted,
thinking of the time a yachtload of silly fools had landed out of curiosity one
afternoon, spewed themselves over his beloved island, peppered him with lame-
brained questions, and thrown his nervous equilibrium out for days. Lord, how he
hated people!

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 MICROCOSMIC GOD


The thought of unpleasantness bred two more thoughts that played half-