Дюна
Book One: Dune
Hesuddenlysawhowfertilewasthegroundintowhichhehadfallen,andwiththisrealization,theterriblepurposefilledhim,creepingthroughtheemptyplacewithin,threateningtochokehimwithgrief.
Hehadseentwomainbranchingsalongthewayahead—inoneheconfrontedaneviloldBaronandsaid:“Hello,Grandfather.”Thethoughtofthatpathandwhatlayalongitsickenedhim.
Theotherpathheldlongpatchesofgreyobscurityexceptforpeaksofviolence.Hehadseenawarriorreligionthere,afirespreadingacrosstheuniversewiththeAtreidesgreenandblackbannerwavingattheheadoffanaticlegionsdrunkonspiceliquor.GurneyHalleckandafewothersofhisfather’smen—apitifulfew—wereamongthem,allmarkedbythehawksymbolfromtheshrineofhisfather’sskull.
“Ican’tgothatway,”hemuttered.“That’swhattheoldwitchesofyourschoolsreallywant.”
“Idon’tunderstandyou,Paul,”hismothersaid.
Heremainedsilent,thinkingliketheseedhewas,thinkingwiththeraceconsciousnesshehadfirstexperiencedasterriblepurpose.HefoundthathenolongercouldhatetheBeneGesseritortheEmperororeventheHarkonnens.
Theywereallcaughtupintheneedoftheirracetorenewitsscatteredinheritance,tocrossandmingleandinfusetheirbloodlinesinagreatnewpoolingofgenes.Andtheraceknewonlyonesurewayforthis—theancientway,thetriedandcertainwaythatrolledovereverythinginitspath:jihad.
Surely,Icannotchoosethatway,hethought
