"Theodore Sturgeon - The Dreaming Jewels" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sturgeon Theodore)

The Dreaming Jewels (v2.0)

Theodore Sturgeon, 1950




A jewel-eyed jack-in-the-box holds a mysterious key to the future of a young boy
who runs away from home and hides away in a traveling freak show.




1


They caught the kid doing something disgusting out under the bleachers at the
high-school stadium, and he was sent home from the grammar school across the
street. He was eight years old then. He'd been doing it for years.
In a way it was a pity. He was a nice kid, a nice-looking kid too, though not
particularly outstanding. There were other kids, and teachers, who liked him a little
bit, and some who disliked him a little bit; but everyone jumped on him when it got
around. His name was Horty -- Horton, that is -- Bluett. Naturally he caught blazes
when he got home.
He opened the door as quietly as he could, but they heard him, and hauled him
front and center into the living room where he stood flushing, with his head down,
one sock around his ankle, and his arms full of books and a catcher's mitt. He was a
good catcher, for an eight-year-old. He said, "I was -- "
"We know," said Armand Bluett. Armand was a bony individual with a small
mustache and cold wet eyes. He clapped his hands to his forehead and then threw
up his arms. "My God, boy, what in Heaven's name made you do a filthy thing like
that?" Armand Bluett was not a religious man, but he always talked like that when
he clapped his hands to his head, which he did quite often.
Horty did not answer. Mrs. Bluett, whose name was Tonta, sighed and asked for a
highball. She did not smoke, and needed a substitute for the smoker's thoughtful
match-lit pause when she was at a loss for words. She was so seldom at a loss for
words that a fifth of rye lasted her six weeks. She and Armand were not Horton's
parents. Horton's parents were upstairs, but the Bluetts did not know it. Horton was
allowed to call Armand and Tonta by their first names.
"Might I ask," said Armand icily, "how long you have had this nauseating habit? Or
was it an experiment?"
Horty knew they weren't going to make it easy on him. There was the same
puckered expression on Armand's face as when he tasted wine and found it
unexpectedly good.
"I don't do it much," Horty said, and waited.
 "May the Lord have mercy on us for our generosity in taking in this little swine,"
said Armand, clapping his hands to his head again. Horty let his breath out. Now that
was over with. Armand said it every time he was angry. He marched out to mix
Tonta a highball.
"Why did you do it, Horty?" Tonta's voice was more gentle only because her vocal