Марсианские хроники

           You’reafraid?"

           "WhowantstoseetheFuture,whoeverdoes?AmancanfacethePast,buttothink—thepillarscrumbled,yousay?Andtheseaempty,andthecanalsdry,andthemaidensdead,andtheflowerswithered?"TheMartianwassilent,butthenhelookedonahead."Buttheretheyare.Iseethem.Isn’tthatenoughforme?Theywaitformenow,nomatterwhatyousay."

           AndforTomastherockets,faraway,waitingforhim,andthetownandthewomenfromEarth."Wecanneveragree,"hesaid.

           "Letusagreetodisagree,"saidtheMartian."WhatdoesitmatterwhoisPastorFuture,ifwearebothalive,forwhatfollowswillfollow,tomorroworintenthousandyears.Howdoyouknowthatthosetemplesarenotthetemplesofyourowncivilizationonehundredcenturiesfromnow,tumbledandbroken?Youdonotknow.Thendon’task.Butthenightisveryshort.Theregothefestivalfiresinthesky,andthebirds."

           Tomasputouthishand.TheMartiandidlikewiseinimitation.

           Theirhandsdidnottouch;theymeltedthrougheachother.

           "Willwemeetagain?"

           "Whoknows?Perhapssomeothernight."

           "I’dliketogowithyoutothatfestival."

           "AndIwishImightcometoyournewtown,toseethisshipyouspeakof,toseethesemen,tohearallthathashappened."

           "Good-by,"saidTomas.

           "Goodnight."

           TheMartianrodehisgreenmetalvehiclequietlyawayintothehills,TheEarthManturnedhistruckanddroveitsilentlyintheoppositedirection