"Ian Watson - The FireWorm" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watson Ian)

one way or another. When apparently compelling evidence bubbles from their lips, this doesnтАЩt so much
astonish тАФ as provide a sense of recognition. IтАЩm merely channelling immortal yearnings down one
particular route.тАЭ

JACK: тАЬWhich you choose for others, but reject for yourself.тАЭ
JOHN: тАЬIf a personтАЩs been drifting in limbo, perhaps itтАЩs no bad thing to gain a belief system. People
donтАЩt really function effectively without some belief system or other to organize their lives.My system has
one great advantage over other faiths. Born-again Christianity, Marxism, whatever. Mine doesnтАЩt include
any set of dogmas. Its only creed iskarma , the notion that your actions in life have consequences and
shape your psyche тАФ with which no one can argue. This can only promote a sense of responsibility, for
yourself and for other people.тАЭ

JACK: тАЬThank you, Dr Cunningham. Witness may step down.тАЭ

JOHN: тАЬSo may you, Jack. So may you.тАЭ

Tony was thirty years old, with wavy sandy hair on which he obviously lavished care and style. That was
his good feature. Despite a smart turn-out тАФ well-cut light-grey suit, striped blue shirt with fawn suede
tie, and yuppie grey trainers тАФ he still looked awkwardly, batteredly adolescent, with a pinched, spotty,
bruise-eyed face. ThatтАЩs how Jack would describe him in a story.

As IтАЩd expected, he was taking a fair while to read through all those pages тАж

|Go to Contents |

Chapter Two
On the cinema screen: a grey atoll in grey south seas. A bulb of light expanded suddenly; boiling cloud
rushed skyward. Within moments the screen rocked at the impact of an implacable, blasting hurricane.

тАЬThis is the first moment of the thermonuclear age!тАЭ said the newsreel announcer, proud and cheerful as
ever.

Ted Appleby felt such a thrill rush through his whole body at the power unleashed. The eleven-year-old
paid scant attention to the rest of the newsreel: the Queen touring her Commonwealth, the French
Foreign Legion losing a battle in some country called Indo-China, British troops successfully rounding up
Mau Mau suspects in Kenya, a woman athlete running round a cinder track. The therm-o-nuclear
explosion continued to boil through Ted, seeking outlet, expression.

Curtains slid across the front of the proscenium, luxuriously hung in tiers of pleats, spotlit in pink and
orange and green. The main Art Deco lights came on, illuminating Egyptian-style papyrus columns and
friezes. A recording of MantovaniтАЩs string orchestra playingCharmaine began. Ted tagged on to the
crowd of children stampeding from their seats, squeezing through the foyer to erupt down mock-marble
steps into the bright breezy salty June daylight.

HeтАЩd come to the cartoon matin├йe on his own. As half-expected, Gavin was waiting some way down the
street pretending to look in a newsagentтАЩs window. Gavin wouldnтАЩt wish other boys, who might be from
the same school, to see them meet; so Ted loitered, to let the mob clear away.

It was thus with all the older boyтАЩs interceptions of Ted; Gavin wanted the two of them to talk alone, to
walk alone. Gavin Percy was sixteen. A fortnight earlier a couple of other sixteen-year-olds had