"Theodore Sturgeon - The Perfect Host" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sturgeon Theodore)

You can't know what this means until you know the grim happiness that the chap you've dug out
of the ruins is a dead 'un, for the ones who still live horrify you so.
So--one gets accustomed to the worst. Further, one is prepared when a worse "worst" presents
itself.
And I suppose that it was this very preparation which found me jolly well unprepared for what
happened when Mrs. Stoye jumped out of her window.
There were two things happening from the instant I opened her door. One thing was what I did,
and the other thing is what I felt.
These are the things I did:
I stepped into the room, carrying a washing tray on my arm. Everything seemed in order,
except, of course, that Mrs. Stoye was out of bed. That didn't surprise me; she was ambulant. She


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was over by the window; I suppose I glanced around the room before I looked directly at her.
When I saw her pajama top lying on the bedclothes I looked at her, though.
She straightened up suddenly as she heard me, barked something about "That's the one!" and
jumped--dived, rather --right out. It wasn't too much of a drop, really--less than thirty feet,
I'd say, but she went down head first, and I knew instantly that she hadn't a chance.
I can't remember setting down the washing tray; I saw it later on the bed. I must have spun
around and set it there and rushed to the window.
I looked down, quite prepared for the worst, as I've said.
But what I saw was so terribly much worse than it should have been. I mean, an ill person is a
bad thing to see, and an accident case can be worse, and burn cases, I think, are worst of all.
The thing is, these all get worse in one direction. One simply cannot be prepared for something
which is bad in a totally unexpected, impossible way.
There was nothing down there at all. Nothing. I saw Mrs. Stoye jump out, ran to the window, it
couldn't have been more than three seconds later; and there was nothing there.
But I'm saying now how I felt. I mean to say first what I did, because the two are so
different, from this point on.
I looked down; there was no underbrush, no flowerbed, nothing which could have concealed her
had she rolled. There were some people--a stocky man and a young boy, perhaps fourteen or fifteen--
standing nearby. The man seemed to be searching the ground as I was; I don't remember what the boy
was doing. Just standing there. The man looked up at me; he looked badly frightened. He spoke to
the boy, who answered quietly, and then they moved off together to the road.
I looked down once more, still could not see Mrs. Stoye, and turned and ran to the signal-
button.
I rang it and then rushed out into the hall. I must have looked very distraught.
I ran right into Dr. Knapp, all but knocking him over, and gasped out that Mrs. Stoye had
jumped.
Dr. Knapp was terribly decent. He led me back into the room and told me to sit down. Then he
went to the window, looked down and grunted. Miss Flaggon came in just then. I was crying.
Dr. Knapp told her to get a stretcher and a couple of orderlies and take them outside, under
this window. She asked no questions, but fled; when Dr. Knapp gives orders in that voice, people
jump to it. Dr. Knapp ran out, calling to me to stay where I was until he came back. In spite of
the excitement, he actually managed to make his voice gentle.
I went to the window after a moment and looked down. Two medical students were running across
the lawn from the south building, and the orderlies with their stretcher, still rolled, were