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- Рэй Брэдбери
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- Марсианские хроники
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- Стр. 211/287
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"
We
Martians
are
telepathic
,
"
said
the
cold
blue
mask
.
"
We
are
in
contact
with
one
of
your
towns
across
the
dead
sea
.
Have
you
listened
on
your
radio
?
"
"
My
radio
’
s
busted
.
"
"
Then
you
don
’
t
know
.
There
’
s
big
news
.
It
concerns
Earth
—
"
A
silver
hand
gestured
.
A
bronze
tube
appeared
in
it
.
"
Let
me
show
you
this
.
"
"
A
gun
,
"
cried
Sam
Parkhill
.
An
instant
later
he
had
yanked
his
own
gun
from
his
hip
holster
and
fired
into
the
mist
,
the
robe
,
the
blue
mask
.
The
mask
sustained
itself
a
moment
.
Then
,
like
a
small
circus
tent
pulling
up
its
stakes
and
dropping
soft
fold
on
fold
,
the
silks
rustled
,
the
mask
descended
,
the
silver
claws
tinkled
on
the
stone
path
.
The
mask
lay
on
a
small
huddle
of
silent
white
bones
and
material
.
Sam
stood
gasping
.
