Дюна
Book One: Dune
Hefeltcalmnessreturn,said: “Getonwithit,oldwoman.”
“Oldwoman!”shesnapped.“You’vecourage,andthatcan’tbedenied.
Well,weshallsee,sirra.”Shebentclose,loweredhervoicealmosttoawhisper.
“Youwillfeelpaininthishandwithinthebox.Pain.But!WithdrawthehandandI’lltouchyourneckwithmygomjabbar—thedeathsoswiftit’slikethefalloftheheadsman’saxe.Withdrawyourhandandthegomjabbartakesyou.
Understand?”
“What’sinthebox?”
“Pain.”
Hefeltincreasedtinglinginhishand,pressedhislipstightlytogether.Howcouldthisbeatest?hewondered.Thetinglingbecameanitch.
Theoldwomansaid: “You’veheardofanimalschewingoffalegtoescapeatrap?There’sananimalkindoftrick. Ahumanwouldremaininthetrap,endurethepain,feigningdeaththathemightkillthetrapperandremoveathreattohiskind.”
Theitchbecamethefaintestburning. “Whyareyoudoingthis?”hedemanded.
“Todetermineifyou’rehuman.Besilent.”
Paulclenchedhislefthandintoafistastheburningsensationincreasedintheotherhand.Itmountedslowly:heatuponheatuponheat...uponheat.Hefeltthefingernailsofhisfreehandbitingthepalm. Hetriedtoflexthefingersoftheburninghand,butcouldn’tmovethem.
“Itburns,”hewhispered.
“Silence!”
Painthrobbeduphisarm.Sweatstoodoutonhisforehead. Everyfibercriedouttowithdrawthehandfromthatburningpit...but...thegomjabbar.
