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- Джон Уиндем
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- День триффидов
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- Стр. 16/223
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What
was
there
to
say
?
What
I
did
say
served
no
purpose
,
save
to
spoil
his
temper
.
In
the
end
he
groped
his
way
to
the
stairs
and
disappeared
up
them
,
bottle
in
hand
.
I
didn
’
t
try
to
stop
him
or
follow
him
.
I
watched
him
go
.
Then
I
knocked
off
the
last
of
my
brandy
and
went
out
into
the
silent
street
.
This
is
a
personal
record
.
It
involves
a
great
deal
that
has
vanished
forever
,
but
I
can
’
t
tell
it
in
any
other
way
than
by
using
the
words
we
used
to
use
for
those
vanished
things
,
so
they
have
to
stand
.
But
even
to
make
the
setting
intelligible
I
find
that
I
shall
have
to
go
back
farther
than
the
point
at
which
I
started
.
When
I
,
William
Masen
,
was
a
child
we
lived
,
my
father
,
my
mother
,
and
myself
,
in
a
southern
suburb
of
London
.
We
had
a
small
house
which
my
father
supported
by
conscientious
daily
"
attendance
at
his
desk
in
the
Inland
Revenue
Department
,
and
a
small
garden
at
which
he
worked
rather
harder
during
the
summer
.
There
was
not
a
lot
to
distinguish
us
from
the
ten
or
twelve
million
other
people
who
used
to
live
in
and
around
London
in
those
days
.
My
father
was
one
of
those
persons
who
could
add
a
column
of
figures
—
even
of
the
ridiculous
coinage
then
in
use
locally
—
with
a
flick
of
the
eye
,
so
that
it
was
natural
for
him
to
have
in
mind
that
I
should
become
an
accountant
.
As
a
result
,
my
inability
to
make
any
column
of
figures
reach
the
same
total
twice
caused
me
to
be
something
of
a
mystery
as
well
as
a
disappointment
to
him
.
Still
,
there
it
was
:
just
one
of
those
things
.
And
each
of
a
succession
of
teachers
who
tried
to
show
me
that
mathematical
answers
were
derived
logically
and
not
through
some
form
of
esoteric
inspiration
was
forced
to
give
up
with
the
assurance
that
I
had
no
head
for
figures
.
My
father
‘
would
read
my
school
reports
with
a
gloom
which
in
other
respects
they
scarcely
warranted
.
His
mind
worked
,
I
think
,
this
way
:
no
head
for
figures
=
no
idea
of
finance
=
no
money
.
"
I
really
don
’
t
know
what
we
shall
do
with
you
.
What
do
you
want
to
do
?
’
he
would
ask
.
And
until
I
was
thirteen
or
fourteen
T
would
shake
my
head
,
conscious
of
my
sad
inadequacy
,
and
admit
that
I
did
not
know
.
It
was
the
appearance
of
the
triffids
which
really
decided
the
matter
for
us
.
Indeed
,
they
did
a
lot
more
than
that
for
me
.
They
provided
me
with
a
job
and
comfortably
supported
me
.
They
also
on
several
occasions
almost
took
my
life
.
On
the
other
hand
,
I
have
to
admit
that
they
preserved
it
,
too
,
for
it
was
a
triffid
sting
that
had
landed
me
in
hospital
on
the
critical
occasion
of
the
‘
comet
debris
.
"
In
the
books
there
is
quite
a
lot
of
loose
speculation
on
the
sudden
occurrence
of
the
triffids
.
Most
of
it
is
nonsense
.
Certainly
they
were
not
spontaneously
generated
,
as
many
simple
souls
believed
.
Nor
did
most
people
endorse
the
theory
that
they
were
a
kind
of
sample
visitation
—
harbingers
of
worse
to
come
if
the
world
did
not
mend
its
ways
and
behave
its
troublesome
self
.
Nor
did
their
seeds
float
to
us
through
space
as
specimens
of
the
horrid
forms
fife
might
assume
upon
other
,
less
favored
worlds
—
at
least
I
am
satisfied
that
they
did
not
.
I
learned
more
about
it
than
most
people
because
triffids
were
my
job
,
and
the
firm
I
worked
for
was
intimately
,
if
not
very
gracefully
,
concerned
in
their
public
appearance
.
Nevertheless
,
their
true
origin
still
remains
obscure
.
