"Theodore Sturgeon - Slow Sculpture" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sturgeon Theodore)

example--stay well away from you, there won't be any
fireworks."
"Are you going to use a generator like that?"
"Not like that--and I already did. You're the genera-
*N
ror.
"I'm--oh!" She had raised her hand from the uphol-
stered chair arm and there was a crackle of sparks and



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the faint smell of ozone.
"You sure are and more than I bought--and quicker.
Get up."
She started up slowly. She finished the maneuver with
speed. As her body separated from the chair she was, for
a fractional second, seated in a tangle of spitting blue-
white threads. They, or she, propelled her a yard and a
half away, standing. Literally shocked half out of her
wits, she almost fell.
"Stay on your feet," he snapped and she recovered,
gasping. He stepped back a pace. "Get up on the board.
Quickly now."
She did as she was told, leaving, for the two paces she
traveled, two brief footprints of fire. She teetered on the
board. Visibly, her hair began to stir.
"What's happening to me?" she cried.
"You're getting charged after all," he said jovially but
at this point she failed to appreciate the extension of even
her own witticism.
She cried again, "What's happening to me?"
"It's all right," he said consolingly.
He went to the bench and turned on a tone generator.
It moaned deep in the one to three hundred cycle range.
He increased the volume and turned the pitch control.
It howled upward and, as it did so, her red-gold hair
shivered and swept up and out, each hair attempting
frantically to gat away from all the others. He ran the
tone up above ten thousand cycles and all the way back
to a belly-bumping inaudible eleven. At the extremes her
hair slumped but at around eleven hundred it stood out
in, as she had described it, golliwog style. She could feel
it.
He turned down the gain to a more or less bearable
level and picked up the electroscope. He came toward
her, smiling.
"You are an electroscope, you know that? And a living