"Boris and Arkady Strugatsky. The snail on the slope" - читать интересную книгу автора

And how is it you can sit on the edge of the cliff? Is it inborn or have you
done special training? I, for example, am unable to sit on the edge of the
cliff, and I can't bear to think why I might train for such a thing. I get
dizzy at the thought. That's only natural. Nobody needs to sit on the cliff
edge. Especially if he doesn't have a permit to enter the forest. Show me
your permit, if you please, Pepper." "I haven't got one." "So. Not got. Why
is that?"
"I don't know. . . . They won't give me one, that's all."
"That's right, not given out. This we know. And why don't they give you
one? I've got one, he's got one, they've got one, plenty of people have
them, but for some reason you don't get one."
Pepper stole a cautious glance at him. Hausbotcher's long emaciated
nose was sniffing, his eyes constantly blinking.
"Probably it's because I'm an outsider," suggested Pepper. "Probably
that's why."
"I'm not the only one taking an interest in you, you know," Hausbotcher
confided. "If it were only me! People a bit higher up than me are taking an
interest. Listen, Pepper, could you come away from the edge, so we can carry
on. I get dizzy looking at you."
Pepper got up and began leaping about on one leg as he fastened his
sandal.
"Oh dear, please come away from the edge!" cried Hausbotcher in agony,
waving his notepad at Pepper.
"You'll be the death of me someday with your antics."
"That's it," said Pepper, stamping his foot. "I shan't do it again.
Let's go, shall we?"
"Let's go," said Hausbotcher. "I assert, however, that you haven't
answered a single one of my questions. You pain me, Pepper. Is this any way
to go on?" He looked at the bulky notepad and placed it under his armpit
with a shrug. "It's very odd, definitely no impressions, let alone
information."
"All right, what should I answer?" said Pepper. "I just wanted to have
a talk with the director here."
Hausbotcher froze, as if trapped in the bushes. "So that's how you go
about it." His voice was altered.
"Go about what? There's no going about. . . ."
"No, no," whispered Hausbotcher, gazing about him, "just keep silent.
No need for any words. I realize now. You were right."
"What've you realized? What was I right in?"
"No, no, I haven't understood anything. I haven't understood, period.
You may rest absolutely assured. Haven't understood a thing. I wasn't even
here, I didn't see you."
They passed by the little bench, climbed the crumbling steps, turned
into an alley strewn with red sand, and entered the grounds of the
Directorate.
"Total clarity can exist only on a certain level," Hausbotcher was
saying. "And everybody should know what he can lay claim to. I claimed
certainty on my level, that was my right and I exercised it fully. Where
rights end, obligations begin. . . ."
They passed the ten flat cottages with tulle curtains at the windows,