"A. E. Van Vogt - The Cataaaa" - читать интересную книгу автора (Van Vogt A E)intermediary."
I have to confess that I jumped, that my mind scurried into a deep corner of my head--and only slowly came out again as the silence continued, and no attempt was made to harm me. I don't know why I should have assumed that its ability to speak through a mechanical device was a threat to me. But I had. I suppose it was really a mental shrinking, my mind unwilling to accept the reality that was here. Before I could think clearly, the instrument on the table said: "The problem of conveying thoughts through an electronic device depends on rhythmic utilization of brain energies." The statement stirred me. I had read considerable on that subject, beginning with Professor Hans Berger's report on brain rhythms in 1929. The cat's statements didn't quite fit. "Isn't the energy potential too small?" I asked. "And besides you have your eyes open. The rhythms are always interfered with when the eyes are open, and in fact such a large part of the cortex yields to the visual centers that no rhythm whatever is detectable at such times." It didn't strike me then, but I think now that I actually distracted the animal from its purpose. "What measurements have been taken?" it asked. Even through the mind radio, it sounded interested. "Photoelectric cells," I said, "have measured as much (or as little, which is really more accurate) as 50 microvolts of energy, mostly in the active regions of the brain. Do you know what a microvolt is?" Get any book for free on: www.Abika.com THE CATAAAA 10 The creature nodded. It said after a moment, "I won't tell you what energy my brain develops. It would probably frighten you, but it isn't all intelligence. I am a student on a tour of the galaxy, what might be called a postgraduate tour. Now, we have certain rules--" It stopped. "You opened your mouth. Did you wish to say something?" That is correct." "B-but wouldn't that take years?" My brain was reaching out, striving to grasp, to understand. "My tour will last about a thousand of your years," said the cat. "You're immortal?" "Oh, no." "But--" There I stopped. I couldn't go on. I sat there, blank-brained, while the creature went on: "The rules of the fraternity of students require that we tell one person about ourselves before we leave the planet. And that we take with us a symbolical souvenir of the civilization of the beings on it. I'm curious to know what you would suggest as a souvenir of earth. It can be anything, so long as it tells at a glance the dominating character of the race." The question calmed me. My brain stopped its alternation of mad whirling followed by blankness. I began to feel distinctly better. I shifted myself into a more comfortable position and stroked my jaw thoughtfully. I sincerely hoped that I was giving the impression that I was an intelligent person whose opinion would be worthwhile. A sense of incredible complication began to seize on me. I had realized it before, but now, with an actual decision to make, it seemed to me that human beings were really immensely intricate creatures. How could anybody pick one facet of their nature, and say, "This is man!" Or "This represents man!" I said slowly: "A work of art, science, or any useful article--you include those?" "Anything." My interest was now at its peak. My whole being accepted the wonderfulness of what had happened. It seemed tremendously important that the great race that could travel the breadth and length of the galaxy should have some true representation of man's civilization. It amazed me, |
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