"Tuning, William - Terro-Human - Fuzzy 04 - Fuzzy Bones 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tuning William)

Grego smiled disarmingly. "I got curious and looked it up. I just thought you might have an idea about it."

Rainsford sipped his drink, then shook his head. "I don't know, Victor. Science for me has been something of a luxury-a luxury I can't afford-ever since Alex Napier stuck this Governor job onto me. You'll have to ask the Fuzzyologists about that one."

Grego waved a hand. "I noticed that the first day I took Diamond to the office with me. He got into the computer room and rearranged all the lights on the input board; the pattern he made was a spiral one, kind of like a nebula." Grego chuckled as he recalled the panic which had followed until Joe Verganno had restored the Executive One and Two computers to their normal functioning. "It was sort of pretty, too, except there was hell to pay for a couple of hours."

Another flash of lightning glared through the premature twilight and the thunderclap rattled the terrace doors.

The Fuzzies peeped bashfully around the door jamb, then decided all the noise wasn't Pappy Vic and Pappy Ben fighting and went back to their communication screen.

"That's something else I've been wondering about," Grego said, nodding toward the Fuzzies.

"Whazzat?" Rainsford said absently.

"For a people of low paleolithic development, the Fuzzies don't seem to have the slightest fear of natural events. Consider the Thorans, for example. With all their intelligence and absolute fearless courage, whenever there's a thunderstorm they drop to the ground like stones and start praying to Great Ghu the Grandfather God like the end of the world is coming in five minutes."

Rainsford rubbed his chin and nodded agreement.

"That's another thing," Grego said, warming to his subject. "Fuzzies don't seem to have any primitive nature-gods or religious myths about the creation of the world and so forth. What do you make of that, Bennett?"

"Hmmmf," Rainsford said. "Next thing, you'll be applying to the Institute of Xeno-Sciences for a fellowship."

Grego reddened slightly.

"The first thing a xeno-naturalist learns about extrasolar creatures is to find the yardstick," Rainsford said, "instead of trying to make existing yardsticks apply. Comparisons, yes. Circular reasoning, no."

"Well, then," Grego said. "There are nine sapient races besides Terrans. They all react the same to loud noises, don't they? With the exception of Fuzzies, that is."

"Yes," Rainsford snapped, "and they can all be driven insane. Fuzzies are totally sane and can't be driven insane. Maybe that's the difference. There is always some difference. Non-Terran psychology is not all whittled from the same stick."

Grego raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. Can't argue with that line of reasoning, he thought.

"Even the Yggsdrasil Khooghra," Rainsford went on, "with the lowest mentation of any sapient race, can be driven nuts."

"I see your point," Grego said. "I've been pondering some of these things. I was interested in your opinion."

"Thank you,' * Rainsford said. "There is something else I wanted to ask you about, though, and I'm getting a bit pressed for time."

"So, you see," Rainsford concluded, "we've got a damn-thing by the tail here with no way to let go unless we stay strictly on top of the situation. With our budget situation being what it is, we can't hope for law enforcement organizations to grow fast enough to meet the requirements of this damned population boom."

Grego nodded. "I know, Bennett. Nine years ago, before you came to Zarathustra, we had an immigration boom. If it hadn't gone bust, there would have been a Nifflheim of a law enforcement problem come out of it-at least for a while."

"Well, we can't allow it," Rainsford said. "We've got to get the most we can out of available manpower with the least possible waste motion."

Grego smiled. Spoken like a true manager, he thought. "You have some ideas, then, I take it?" he said.

Rainsford knocked the heel out of his pipe. "Indeed," he said. "We've got a helluva lot of overlap, here." He ticked the agencies off on his fingers. "There's Ian Ferguson's Colonial Constabulary, the Mallorysport City P.D., the ZNPF, Harry Steefer's rather sizeable mob of Company Police for your own company, and almost a hundred Marines on loan for various peace-keeping chores." That used up all the fingers on one hand, and Rainsford waved it in the air. "Besides that, there's the Colonial Marshal's office, and it's not unusual for Max Fane to send one of his men all the way over to Delta Continent just to serve papers on someone."

Grego nodded.