Марсианские хроники
February 1999: Ylla
"Oh?"Heevidentlywishedtoreturntohisbook.
"Idreamedaboutaman."
"Aman?"
"Atallman,sixfeetoneinchtall."
"Howabsurd;agiant,amisshapengiant."
"Somehow"—shetriedthewords—"helookedallright.Inspiteofbeingtall.Andhehad—oh,Iknowyou’llthinkitsilly—hehadblueeyes!"
"Blueeyes!Gods!"criedMr.K."What’llyoudreamnext?Isupposehehadblackhair?"
"Howdidyouguess?"Shewasexcited.
"Ipickedthemostunlikelycolor,"herepliedcoldly.
"Well,blackitwas!"shecried."Andhehadaverywhiteskin;oh,hewasmostunusual!Hewasdressedinastrangeuniformandhecamedownoutoftheskyandspokepleasantlytome."Shesmiled.
"Outofthesky;whatnonsense!"
"Hecameinametalthingthatglitteredinthesun,"sheremembered.Sheclosedhereyestoshapeitagain."Idreamedtherewastheskyandsomethingsparkledlikeacointhrownintotheair,andsuddenlyitgrewlargeandfelldownsoftlytoland,alongsilvercraft,roundandalien.Andadooropenedinthesideofthesilverobjectandthistallmansteppedout."
"Ifyouworkedharderyouwouldn’thavethesesillydreams."
"Iratherenjoyedit,"shereplied,lyingback."Ineversuspectedmyselfofsuchanimagination.Blackhair,blueeyes,andwhiteskin!Whatastrangeman,andyet—quitehandsome."
"Wishfulthinking."
"You’reunkind.Ididn’tthinkhimuponpurpose;hejustcameinmymindwhileIdrowsed.Itwasn’tlikeadream.
