Huddling Place----Clifford D. Simak(35)
He, Jerome A. Webster, had gone to Mars when he was a young man, and had not felt or suspected the psychological poison that ran through his veins. Even as Thomas a few months ago had gone to Mars. But years of quiet life here in the retreat that the Websters called a home had brought it forth, had developed it without his even knowing it. There had, in fact, been no opportunity to know it.
It was clear how it had developed—clear as crystal now. Habit and mental pattern and a happiness association with certain things—things that had no actual value in themselves, but had been assigned a value, a definite, concrete value by one family through five generations.
No wonder other places seemed alien, no wonder other horizons held a hint of horror in their sweep.
And there was nothing one could do about it—nothing, that is, unless one cut down every tree and burned the house and changed the course of waterways. Even that might not do it—even that—
The televisor purred and Webster lifted his head from his hands, reached out and thumbed the tumbler.
The room became a flare of white, but there was no image. A voice said: "Secret call. Secret call."
It was clear how it had developed—clear as crystal now. Habit and mental pattern and a happiness association with certain things—things that had no actual value in themselves, but had been assigned a value, a definite, concrete value by one family through five generations.
No wonder other places seemed alien, no wonder other horizons held a hint of horror in their sweep.
And there was nothing one could do about it—nothing, that is, unless one cut down every tree and burned the house and changed the course of waterways. Even that might not do it—even that—
The televisor purred and Webster lifted his head from his hands, reached out and thumbed the tumbler.
The room became a flare of white, but there was no image. A voice said: "Secret call. Secret call."
完美世界3d
