"A. E. Van Vogt - The Silkie" - читать интересную книгу автора (Van Vogt A E)

As the over-stimulation continued, the shark's pictures ceased to connect with body movements. It
drifted forward and finally bumped, unnoticing, into a coral embankment. There it hung, dreaming that it
was in motion. It was being attacked through a logic related to its structure, on a level that bypassed its
gigantic attack equipment.

Levels of logic. Long ago now, men had titillated themselves by opening up the older parts of the human
brain where suggested pictures and sounds were as real as actual ones. It was the best level of logic, not
human at all. For an animal like a shark, reality was an on-off phenomenon, a series of mechanical
conditionings. Now stimulation; now none. Movement always, restless motion always тАФ the endless
need for more oxygen than was available in any one location.

Caught as it was in a suggested world of fantasy, the motionless shark body grew numb from insufficient
oxygen and began to lose consciousness. Before it could really do so, Cemp communicated to the
watchers, 'Do you want me to kill this game fish?'

Silently, the beings beyond the transparent wall indicated where he could escape from the shark tank.

Cemp gave the monster control of itself again. But he knew it would be twenty or more minutes before
the shock could wear off.

As he emerged from the shark tank a few minutes later and rejoined the V's, Cemp realised at once that
their mood had changed. They were derisive of him. It was puzzling that they had adopted this attitude,
for as far as they knew they were completely at his mercy.

Someone in this group must know Cemp's true condition. So...

He saw that they were now in a tank of water so deep that the bottom was not visible. Small schools of
brightly colored fish skittered by in the green depths, and the water seemed slightly colder, more bracing;
still delightful but no longer tropical. Cemp swam over to one of the V's who was capable of putting out
energy. As before, he asked, 'What's your secret?'

The male V's name was Gell, and his secret was that he had several times used his energy to kill rivals
for the favors of certain females. He was instantly terrified that his murderers would be found out. But he
had no information except that the administrative officer of the ship, Riber, had sent them to meet Cemp.
The name was important information.

But even more vital was Cemp's disturbing intuition that this task of duty on which he was embarked
was much more important than the evidence had so far established. He divined that the shark attack was
a test. But a test for what?
 III
AHEAD, SUDDENLY, Cemp could see the city.
The water at this point was cystal clear. Here were none of those millions of impurities which so often
rendered the oceans of Earth murky. Through that liquid, almost as transparent as glass, the city spread
before him.

Domed buildings, duplicates of the domed undersea cities on Earth, where water pressure made the
shape necessary. Here, with only artificial gravity, water was held by the metal walls and had only what
weight the ship's officers elected to give it. Buildings could be any reasonable size, delicately molded and
even misshapen. They could be beautiful for their own sake and were not limited to the sometimes severe