Марсианские хроники

           "Whereareyougoing?"theysaid,andlookedbewildered.

           "I’mTomasGomez."

           "I’mMuheCa."

           Neitherunderstood,buttheytappedtheirchestswiththewordsandthenitbecameclear.

           AndthentheMartianlaughed."Wait!"Tomasfelthisheadtouched,butnohandhadtouchedhim."There!"saidtheMartianinEnglish."Thatisbetter!"

           "Youlearnedmylanguage,soquick!"

           "Nothingatall!"

           Theylooked,embarrassedwithanewsilence,atthesteamingcoffeehehadinonehand.

           "Somethingdifferent?"saidtheMartian,eyinghimandthecoffee,referringtothemboth,perhaps.

           "MayIofferyouadrink?"saidTomas.

           "Please."

           TheMartiansliddownfromhismachine.

           Asecondcupwasproducedandfilled,steaming.Tomashelditout.

           Theirhandsmetand—likemist—fellthrougheachother.

           "JesusChrist!"criedTomas,anddroppedthecup.

           "Nameofthegods!"saidtheMartianinhisowntongue.

           "Didyouseewhathappened?"theybothwhispered.

           Theywereverycoldandterrified.

           TheMartianbenttotouchthecupbutcouldnottouchit.

           "Jesus!"saidTomas.

           "Indeed."TheMartiantriedagainandagaintogetholdofthecup,butcouldnot.Hestoodupandthoughtforamoment,thentookaknifefromhisbelt."Hey!"criedTomas."Youmisunderstand,catch!"saidtheMartian,andtossedit.Tomascuppedhishands.Theknifefellthroughhisflesh.Ithittheground.Tomasbenttopickitupbutcouldnottouchit,andherecoiled,shivering.

           NowhelookedattheMartianagainstthesky.