Дюна
Book One: Dune
Paulfelthislefthandaching,uncurledtheclenchedfingers,lookedatfourbloodymarkswherefingernailshadbittenhispalm. Hedroppedthehandtohisside,lookedattheoldwoman.“Youdidthattomymotheronce?”
“Eversiftsandthroughascreen?”sheasked.
Thetangentialslashofherquestionshockedhismindintoahigherawareness:Sandthroughascreen.Henodded.
“WeBeneGesseritsiftpeopletofindthehumans.”
Heliftedhisrighthand,willingthememoryofthepain. “Andthat’sallthereistoit—pain?”
“Iobservedyouinpain,lad.Pain’smerelytheaxisofthetest.Yourmother’stoldyouaboutourwaysofobserving. Iseethesignsofherteachinginyou.Ourtestiscrisisandobservation.”
Heheardtheconfirmationinhervoice,said: “It’struth!”
Shestaredathim.Hesensestruth!Couldhebetheone?Couldhetrulybetheone?Sheextinguishedtheexcitement,remindingherself:“Hopecloudsobservation.”
“Youknowwhenpeoplebelievewhattheysay,”shesaid.
“Iknowit.”
Theharmonicsofabilityconfirmedbyrepeatedtestwereinhisvoice.Sheheardthem,said: “PerhapsyouaretheKwisatzHaderach.Sitdown,littlebrother,hereatmyfeet.”
“Iprefertostand.”
“Yourmothersatatmyfeetonce.”
“I’mnotmymother.”
“Youhateusalittle,eh?”Shelookedtowardthedoor,calledout:“Jessica!”
ThedoorflewopenandJessicastoodtherestaringhard-eyedintotheroom.
HardnessmeltedfromherasshesawPaul.Shemanagedafaintsmile.
“Jessica,haveyoueverstoppedhatingme?”theoldwomanasked.
