"Jack Williamson - Brother to Demons, Brother to Gods" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williamson Jack)

"She said he was made in the Fourth CreationтАФbut he's no demon. He escaped Belthar's
attack. He lives in hiding. He's immortal, waiting for his time and gaining power while he waits.
When he comes out, he'll be greater than all the gods. Master of the whole multiverse. My mother
said he would bring justice to the premen."
The agent reached to touch a button, and Davey guessed that some machine had been
remembering all he said.
"Thank you both." The agent smiled again, leaning back in his tall chair. "It's my duty to learn
such things, but you needn't be afraid. The Lord Belthar is more tolerant of heresy than your old
preman deities used to be. He knows that you premen are afflicted with imaginations too strong
for your perceptions of reality. Anyhow, the church has been instructed to overlook the insane
faith so many of you have in your old imaginary gods and demons. After all, I suppose you
couldn't endure all the pains and dangers of your brief lives without your saviors and your saints,
your werewolves and your warlocks." His gaze grew sharper. "Of course, if anybody did believe
in this Multiman, we would have to act."
Davey moved uneasily in his chair, but Buglet shook her head. He shrugged and said nothing.
"Anyhow, there is good news for you." With a wider smile, the agent waved all talk of heresy
away. "The goddess remembers you. She regrets what happened to your pet, and she likes what
she calls your irreverent independence. She wants the two of you to become special wards of the
agency. We're to see to your care and education."
"ThankтАФthank her!" Buglet gulped. "She's nice."
"She's kind." Davey sat very straight. "But we don't want anything."
"Why not?" The agent squinted at them unbelievingly. "You premen! I've been your keepers
for a dozen years, and I still don't understand you."
Davey looked down and said nothing. The trumen were too much of everythingтАФtoo quick
and too keen and too strong, too modest and too happy and too generous. The agent seemed too
content that his race had been designed to replace the old imperfect premen, yet too careful not to
hurt them with any display of his own superiority.
"WeтАФwe thank you, sir!" Buglet stifled a sob. "The goddess is good, but she couldn't help
Spot."
They squirmed off the chairs and started for the door.
"Don't go yet," the agent called. "My son wants to meet you."
San Seven was a stocky brown-eyed boy, their own age but inches taller. Warm with instant
friendship, he led them off to the long gameroom and showed them his toysтАФstrange bright
machines and moving models of men and gods and aliens. He showed them his books, which
were filled with living pictures and mysterious symbolism. He took them into a great clean
kitchen and filled them with foods and drinks they had never imagined. When he asked them to
stay at the agency so that they could really be his friends. Buglet accepted before Davey could
say no.
Though they didn't like being apart, there was a whole huge room for each of them. One tall
wall in Davey's room was a wonderful window that could open on starships in space or worlds in
other universes. When San Seven was showing them the buttons that worked it, Davey asked to
see the place where the premen were to go.
"Here's the planet where my uncle lives." Hastily, San Seven fingered the buttons to make a
picture of jewel-colored towers clustered on smooth blue hills, with a triple sun hanging in the
greenish sky. "My mother wants us to move there when the agency is closed." "It's lovely!"
Buglet said. "You are very lucky." "Please," Davey insisted. "Show us our new home." "Another
time." San Seven began explaining again how to shift the pictures.
"Now," Davey said.
With an unhappy shrug San Seven punched the buttons to show them Andoranda V. It was all
naked rock and mud-flat and sand dune, with rivers of red mud staining the storm-beaten seas.