"Francois Voltaire - Plato's Dream" - читать интересную книгу автора (Voltaire Francois)

a tenth of the species, and sister maladies will taint the springs of life in
the remainder; and then, as if this was not enough, you have so disposed things
that half of those who survive are occupied in lawsuits, or cutting each other's
throats. Yes, they must be infinitely grateful to you, and I must admit that you
have executed a masterpiece."
Demogorgon blushed. He now realized there was much moral and physical evil in
his work, but still believed it contained more good than ill.
"It is easy to find fault," he said; "but do you imagine it is so easy to form
an animal, who, having the gift of reason and free will, shall not sometimes
abuse his liberty? Do you think that, in rearing 10,000 plants, it is so easy to
prevent some few from having noxious qualities? Do you suppose that, with a
certain quantity of water, sand, and mud, you could make a globe without sea or
desert?
"As for you, my sneering friend, I think you have just finished the planet
Jupiter. Let us see now what figure you make with your great belts, and your
long nights, with four moons to enlighten them. Let us examine your worlds, and
see whether the inhabitants you have made are exempt from folly and disease."
Accordingly, his fellow entities examined the planet Jupiter, and were soon
laughing at the laugher. He who had made Saturn did not escape without his share
of censure, and his fellows, the makers of Mars, Mercury, and Venus, was each in
his turn reproached.
They were in the midst of railing against and ridiculing each other, when the
eternal Demiurgos thus imposed silence on them all:
"In your performances there is both good and bad, because you have a great share
of understanding, but at the same time fall short of perfection. Your works will
endure for only a few billion years, after which you will acquire more knowledge
and perform much better. It belongs to me alone to create things perfect and
immortal."
"Us, for example?" asked Demogorgon.
Demiurgos scowled, and with that Plato awoke.
Or did he?


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