Девять рассказов

           "Nobodyelsediditforme.SoifIgrewit,Imusthaveknownhowtogrowit.Unconsciously,atleast.Imayhavelosttheconsciousknowledgeofhowtogrowitsometimeinthelastfewhundredthousandyears,buttheknowledgeisstillthere,because—obviously—I’veusedit....Itwouldtakequitealotofmeditationandemptyingouttogetthewholethingback—Imeantheconsciousknowledge—butyoucoulddoitifyouwantedto.Ifyouopenedupwideenough."HesuddenlyreacheddownandpickedupNicholson’srighthandfromthearmrest.Heshookitjustonce,cordially,andsaid,"Goodbye.Ihavetogo."Andthistime,Nicholsonwasn’tabletodetainhim,hestartedsoquicklytomakehiswaythroughtheaisle.

           Nicholsonsatmotionlessforsomefewminutesafterheleft,hishandsonthearmrestsofthechair,hisunlightedcigarettestillbetweenthefingersofhislefthand.Finally,heraisedhisrighthandanduseditasiftocheckwhetherhiscollarwasstillopen.Thenhelithiscigarette,andsatquitestillagain.

           Hesmokedthecigarettedowntoitsend,thenabruptlyletonefootoverthesideofthechair,steppedonthecigarette,gottohisfeet,andmadehisway,ratherquickly,outoftheaisle.

           Usingtheforwardshipstairway,hedescendedfairlybrisklytothePromenadeDeck.Withoutstoppingthere,hecontinuedondown,stillquiterapidly,toMainDeck.ThentoADeck.ThentoBDeck.ThentoCDeck.ThentoDDeck.

           AtDDecktheforwardshipstairwayended,andNicholsonstoodforamoment,apparentlyatsomelossfordirection