Марсианские хроники
June 2001: — and the Moon Be Still as Bright
IhatethisfeelingofthinkingI’mdoingrightwhenI’mnotreallycertainIam.Whoarewe,anyway?Themajority?Isthattheanswer?Themajorityisalwaysholy,isitnot?Always,always;justneverwrongforonelittleinsignificanttinymoment,isit?Nevereverwrongintenmillionyears?Hethought:Whatisthismajorityandwhoareinit?AndwhatdotheythinkandhowdidtheygetthatwayandwilltheyeverchangeandhowthedevildidIgetcaughtinthisrottenmajority?Idon’tfeelcomfortable.Isitclaustrophobia,fearofcrowds,orcommonsense?Canonemanberight,whilealltheworldthinkstheyareright?Let’snotthinkaboutit.Let’scrawlaroundandactexcitingandpullthetrigger.There,andthere!
Themenranandduckedandranandsquattedinshadowsandshowedtheirteeth,gasping,fortheairwasthin,notmeantforrunning;theairwasthinandtheyhadtositforfiveminutesatatime,wheezingandseeingblacklightsintheireyes,eatingatthethinairandwantingmore,tighteningtheireyes,andatlastgettingup,liftingtheirgunstotearholesinthatthinsummerair,holesofsoundandheat.
Spenderremainedwherehewas,firingonlyonoccasion.
"Damnedbrainsallover!"Parkhillyelled,runninguphill.
ThecaptainaimedhisgunatSamParkhill.Heputitdownandstaredatitinhorror."Whatwereyoudoing?"heaskedofhislimphandandthegun.
HehadalmostshotParkhillintheback.
"Godhelpme."
HesawParkhillstillrunning,thenfallingtoliesafe.
