"Gene Wolfe - The Waif" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wolfe Gene)

Shula had been toying nervously with one of her skinny braids; she let it fall as she spoke. "I
didn't go, Niman Pryderi. I didn't want to."

"That is well. Fil?"

Fil sat up straight. "Yes, sir. I went. I felt like I ought to see it."

"That is well, too." The schoolmaster rose, selected a stick from the woodbox, opened the
door of the stove, poked the fire with it, and tossed it in to bum. The sky around the hole in
the weathered aluminum roof was bright blue. As he had often before, Bin stared at it, sick
for the freedom temporarily denied him.

"Do you understand why I said that, class? I said it was good that Shula didn't want to watch
Niman Joel burned, and good that Fil felt he should. Who will explain that? Bin?"

He rose as slowly as he could, his mind racing. "'Cause boys 'n girls are different?"

"They are, of course, but that's not the reason." Hands were up. The schoolmaster said,
"Dionne?"
She stood, taller and wider than anyone else in the class, and ever-defiant. "You said it was
good that Fil watched, because we ought to know about it -- about what happens to people
that get mixed up with the Flying People. But we shouldn't want to watch it, because it was
horrible. Nobody ought to want to see somebody else burned to death. That's sick."

"Excellent, Dionne."

Bin, who never raised his hand, had raised it now. For a moment the schoolmaster looked
at it in surprise. Then he said, "Yes, Bin. What is it?"

He rose again, as slowly as ever. "I -- I .... "

The schoolmaster thought he understood, and said, "You were there, too. With Fil, I
imagine."

"Yes, sir. Yes, sir, I was. I seen it. Only -- only if we don't want to see it, we could just not do it.
Folks do it, Niman Pryderi. It don't just happen."

There was laughter. Some light object struck the back of his head, and he sat down.

"We have lost a world," the schoolmaster explained almost gently, "and it was the only world
we had. All our nations collapsed as our raw materials were exhausted, Bin, and no sooner
had we begun to rebuild than the Flying People arrived."

The class was satisfied and seemed ready to move on, but the schoolmaster was not. He
went to his desk, sat down, and regarded them, his soft, dark eyes traveling from face to
face. "Their presence prevents us from rebuilding it. How can we bring back the science we
lost, when we know that human beings not much different from ourselves are watching all we
do, and our lost science is child's play to them?'