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- Рэй Брэдбери
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- Стр. 168/287
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In
coffins
for
the
not
dead
and
not
alive
,
in
planked
boxes
,
the
metronomes
waited
to
be
set
in
motion
.
There
was
a
smell
of
lubrication
and
lathed
brass
.
There
was
a
silence
of
the
tomb
yard
.
Sexed
but
sexless
,
the
robots
.
Named
but
unnamed
,
and
borrowing
from
humans
everything
but
humanity
,
the
robots
stared
at
the
nailed
lids
of
their
labeled
F
.
O
.
B
.
boxes
,
in
a
death
that
was
not
even
a
death
,
for
there
had
never
been
a
life
.
And
now
there
was
a
vast
screaming
of
yanked
nails
.
Now
there
was
a
lifting
of
lids
.
Now
there
were
shadows
on
the
boxes
and
the
pressure
of
a
hand
squirting
oil
from
a
can
.
Now
one
clock
was
set
in
motion
,
a
faint
ticking
.
Now
another
and
another
,
until
this
was
an
immense
clock
shop
,
purring
.
The
marble
eyes
rolled
wide
their
rubber
lids
.
The
nostrils
winked
.
The
robots
,
clothed
in
hair
of
ape
and
white
of
rabbit
,
arose
:
Tweedledum
following
Tweedledee
,
Mock
-
Turtle
,
Dormouse
,
drowned
bodies
from
the
sea
compounded
of
salt
and
whiteweed
,
swaying
;
hanging
blue
-
throated
men
with
turned
-
up
,
clam
-
flesh
eyes
,
and
creatures
of
ice
and
burning
tinsel
,
loam
-
dwarfs
and
pepper
-
elves
,
Tik
-
tok
,
Ruggedo
,
St
.
Nicholas
with
a
self
-
made
snow
flurry
blowing
on
before
him
,
Bluebeard
with
whiskers
like
acetylene
flame
,
and
sulphur
clouds
from
which
green
fire
snouts
protruded
,
and
,
in
scaly
and
gigantic
serpentine
,
a
dragon
with
a
furnace
in
its
belly
reeled
out
the
door
with
a
scream
,
a
tick
,
a
bellow
,
a
silence
,
a
rush
,
a
wind
.
Ten
thousand
lids
fell
back
.
The
clock
shop
moved
out
into
Usher
.
The
night
was
enchanted
.
A
warm
breeze
came
over
the
land
.
The
guest
rockets
,
burning
the
sky
and
turning
the
weather
from
autumn
to
spring
arrived
.
The
men
stepped
out
in
evening
clothes
and
the
women
stepped
out
after
them
,
their
hair
coiffed
up
in
elaborate
detail
.
"
So
that
’
s
Usher
!
"
"
But
where
’
s
the
door
?
"
At
this
moment
Stendahl
appeared
.
The
women
laughed
and
chattered
.
Mr
.
Stendahl
raised
a
hand
to
quiet
them
.
Turning
,
he
looked
up
to
a
high
castle
window
and
called
:
"
Rapunzel
,
Rapunzel
,
let
down
your
hair
.
"
And
from
above
,
a
beautiful
maiden
leaned
out
upon
the
night
wind
and
let
down
her
golden
hair
.
And
the
hair
twined
and
blew
and
became
a
ladder
upon
which
the
guests
might
ascend
,
laughing
,
into
the
House
.
What
eminent
sociologists
!
What
clever
psychologists
!
What
tremendously
important
politicians
,
bacteriologists
,
and
neurologists
!
There
they
stood
,
within
the
dank
walls
.
