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- Алан Дин Фостер
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- Стр. 3/241
Of
all
the
dreamers
on
board
he
was
the
only
contented
one
,
though
he
could
not
be
called
an
innocent
.
It
was
a
shame
none
of
them
were
qualified
as
pro
dreamers
,
since
each
had
more
time
to
dream
in
the
course
of
their
work
than
any
dozen
professionals
,
despite
the
slowing
of
their
dream
pace
by
the
cold
sleep
.
Necessity
made
dreaming
their
principal
avocation
.
A
deep
-
space
crew
can
’
t
do
anything
in
the
freezers
but
sleep
and
dream
.
They
might
remain
forever
amateurs
,
but
they
had
long
ago
become
very
competent
ones
.
Seven
of
them
there
were
.
Seven
quiet
dreamers
in
search
of
a
nightmare
.
While
it
possessed
a
consciousness
of
a
sort
,
the
Nostromo
did
not
dream
.
It
did
not
need
to
,
anymore
than
it
needed
the
preserving
effect
of
the
freezers
.
If
it
did
dream
,
such
musings
must
have
been
brief
and
fleeting
,
since
it
never
slept
.
It
worked
,
and
maintained
,
and
made
certain
its
hibernating
human
complement
stayed
always
a
step
ahead
of
ever
ready
death
,
which
followed
the
cold
sleep
like
a
vast
grey
shark
behind
a
ship
at
sea
.
Evidence
of
the
Nostromo
’
s
unceasing
mechanical
vigilance
was
everywhere
on
the
quiet
ship
,
in
soft
hums
and
lights
that
formed
the
breath
of
instrumental
sentience
.
It
permeated
the
very
fabric
of
the
vessel
,
extended
sensors
to
check
every
circuit
and
strut
.
It
had
sensors
outside
too
,
monitoring
the
pulse
of
the
cosmos
.
Those
sensors
had
fastened
onto
an
electromagnetic
anomaly
.
One
portion
of
the
Nostromo
’
s
brain
was
particularly
adept
at
distilling
sense
out
of
anomalies
.
It
had
thoroughly
chewed
this
one
up
,
found
the
flavor
puzzling
,
examined
the
results
of
analysis
,
and
reached
a
decision
.
Slumbering
instrumentalities
were
activated
,
dormant
circuits
again
regulated
the
flow
of
electrons
.
In
celebration
of
this
decision
,
banks
of
brilliant
lights
winked
on
,
life
signs
of
stirring
mechanical
breath
.
A
distinctive
beeping
sounded
,
though
as
yet
there
were
only
artificial
tympanums
present
to
hear
and
acknowledge
.
It
was
a
sound
not
heard
on
the
Nostromo
for
some
time
,
and
it
signified
an
infrequent
happening
.
Within
this
awakening
bottle
of
clicks
and
flashes
,
of
devices
conversing
with
each
other
,
lay
a
special
room
.
Within
this
room
of
white
metal
lay
seven
cocoons
of
snow
-
coloured
metal
and
plastic
.
A
new
noise
filled
this
chamber
,
an
explosive
exhalation
that
filled
it
with
freshly
scrubbed
,
breathable
atmosphere
.
Mankind
had
willingly
placed
himself
in
this
position
,
trusting
in
little
tin
gods
like
the
Nostromo
to
provide
him
with
the
breath
of
life
when
he
could
not
do
so
for
himself
.
Extensions
of
that
half
-
sentient
electronic
being
now
tested
the
newly
exuded
air
and
pronounced
it
satisfactory
for
sustaining
life
in
puny
organics
such
as
men
.
Additional
lights
flared
,
more
linkages
closed
.
Without
fanfare
,
the
lids
on
the
seven
chrysalises
opened
,
and
the
caterpillar
shapes
within
began
to
emerge
once
more
into
the
light
.
