-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Фрэнк Герберт
-
- Дюна
-
- Стр. 357/972
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
The
emptiness
was
unbearable
.
Knowing
how
the
clockwork
had
been
set
in
motion
made
no
difference
.
He
could
look
to
his
own
past
and
see
the
start
of
it
—
the
training
,
the
sharpening
of
talents
,
the
refined
pressures
of
sophisticated
disciplines
,
even
exposure
to
the
O
.
C
.
Bible
at
a
critical
moment
.
.
.
and
,
lastly
,
the
heavy
intake
of
spice
.
And
he
could
look
ahead
—
the
most
terrifying
direction
—
to
see
where
it
all
pointed
.
I
’
m
a
monster
!
he
thought
.
A
freak
!
“
No
,
”
he
said
.
Then
:
“
No
.
No
!
NO
!
”
He
found
that
he
was
pounding
the
tent
floor
with
his
fists
.
(
The
implacable
part
of
him
recorded
this
as
an
interesting
emotional
datum
and
fed
it
into
computation
.
)
“
Paul
!
”
His
mother
was
beside
him
,
holding
his
hands
,
her
face
a
gray
blob
peering
at
him
.
“
Paul
,
what
’
s
wrong
?
”
“
You
!
”
he
said
.
“
I
’
m
here
,
Paul
,
”
she
said
.
“
It
’
s
all
right
.
”
“
What
have
you
done
to
me
?
”
he
demanded
.