"Wolfe, Gene - The Urth Of The New Sun" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wolfe Gene)

through the clouds would be seen only by a man who had
some means of compressing time as the ship compressed
it; if a man lived as a tree does, perhaps, for which each
year is a day; or like Gyoll, running through the valley of
Nessus for whole ages of the world.
While thinking of such things, which took me much
longer to meditate upon than it has taken me just now to
write about them, I had found a red rag in the armoire,
moistened it at the laver, and begun to wipe away the dust.
When I saw that I had already cleaned the top of the chest
and the steel frame of one bunk, I knew that I had decided
to stay, however unconsciously. I would locate my stateroom
again, of course, and more often than not I would
sleep there.
But I would have this cabin as well. When I grew bored, I
would join the crew and thus learn more about the
operation of the ship than I ever would as a passenger.
There was Gunnie too. I have had women enough in my
arms to have no conceit about the number--one soon
comes to realize that union cripples love when it does not
enhance it--and poor Valeria was often in my thoughts;
yet I hungered for Gunnie's affection. As Autarch I had few
friends save for Father Inire, and Valeria was the only
woman. Some quality in Gunnie's smile recalled my happy
childhood with Thea (how I miss her still!) and the long
trip to Thrax with Dorcas. It had been a journey I had
counted mere exile at the time, so that each day I had
hurried forward. Now I knew that in many ways it had
been the summer of my life.
I rinsed the rag again, conscious that I had done so often,
though I could not have told how often; when I looked
about for another dusty surface to wipe, I found that I had
wiped them all.
The mattress was not so easily dealt with, but it had to
be cleaned in some fashion--it was as filthy as everything
else had been, and we would surely want to lie upon it
occasionally. I carried it onto the walkway overhanging the
airshaft and beat it until it yielded no more dust.
When I had finished and was rolling it up to take back
into the cabin, the wind from the airshaft brought a wild
cry.


Chapter IV -- The Citizens of the Sails


IT CAME from below. I peered over the twig-thin
railing and as I peered heard it again, filled with anguish
and a loneliness that echoed and re-echoed among the
metal catwalks, the metal tiers of metal cabins.