Wells Herbert
Food of the gods
Food of the gods
PART ONE. THE BIRTH OF FOOD
1. DISCOVERY OF FOOD
In the middle of the nineteenth century in our strange world The number of people of that special category, mostly middle-aged, who are called scientists - and they are called very correctly, even though they do not like it at all, began to grow and multiply in an unprecedented way. I don’t like it so much that from the pages of “Nature”, the organ that from the very beginning has served as their eternal and unchanging mouthpiece, this word is carefully expelled as some kind of obscenity. But Madame the public and its press have a different opinion, it calls them only this way and not another, and if any of them attracts even a little attention, we call him “outstanding scientist”, “venerable scientist”, “famous scientist,” or even more magnificent.
Of course, both Mr. Bensington and Professor Redwood fully deserved all these titles long before their amazing discovery, which this book will tell about. Mr. Bensington was a member Royal Society, and former President of the Chemical Society, Professor Redwood taught a course in physiology at Bond Street College University of London, and was more than once subjected to violent attacks by anti-vivisectionists. Both with youth devoted themselves entirely to science.
Of course, like all true scientists, in appearance both of them were unremarkable. There is far more dignity in the bearing and manners of any humble actor than in all the members of the Royal Society put together. Mr. Bensington was short, stooped and extremely bald, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and cloth shoes cut in many places due to countless calluses. Professor Redwood's appearance was also very ordinary. Until they had the chance to discover the Food of the Gods (I am forced to insist on this name), their life was spent in worthy and unknown scientific pursuits, and the reader has absolutely nothing to tell about it.
Mr. Bensington won the knight's spurs (if one can say so about a gentleman wearing slashed cloth shoes) with his brilliant research into the most poisonous alkaloids, and Professor Redwood immortalized himself... I really don't remember how exactly. I only know that somehow he immortalized himself. And fame usually gets louder the further it goes. It seems that his fame was brought to him by an extensive work on muscle reflexes, equipped with many tables, sphygmographic curves (if I am confused, please correct me) and new excellent terminology.
The general public had a rather vague idea of these gentlemen. Occasionally at the Royal Society, at the Society for the Advancement of Crafts, and similar institutions, she had the opportunity to look at Mr. Bensington, or at least at his ruddy bald head, the edge of his collar or frock coat, and listen to fragments of a lecture or article, which, as it seemed to him, he read quite clearly ; I remember once, an eternity ago, when the British Association was meeting in Dover, I wandered into one of its sections - either B or C; - located in a tavern; out of pure curiosity, I followed two serious ladies with paper parcels under their arms through the door marked “Billiard Room” and found myself in completely indecent darkness, broken only by the beam of the magic lantern with which Redwood showed his tables.
I looked at slide after slide and listened to a voice that most likely belonged to Professor Redwood - I don’t remember what he was talking about; In addition, in the darkness I could hear the buzzing of a magic lantern and some other strange sounds - I could not understand what it was, and curiosity would not let me go. And then the light suddenly flashed, and then I realized that incomprehensible sounds came from chewing mouths, because the members scientific society gathered here, at the magic lantern, to chew buns, sandwiches and other foods under the cover of darkness.
I remember that all the time the light was on, Redwood continued to say something and poke his pointer at the place on the screen where the table was supposed to be and where we saw it again when it finally became dark again. I remember that he seemed to me then the most ordinary person: dark skin, slightly restless movements, looking as if he was absorbed in some thoughts of his own, and now he was reading the report simply out of a sense of duty.
I once heard Bensington in those long-gone times; It was in Bloomsbury at a teachers' conference. Like most outstanding chemists and botanists, Mr. Bensington spoke with great authority on matters of teaching, although I am sure that the most ordinary class any closed school would have scared him half to death in the first half hour; As far as I remember, he proposed to improve the heuristic method of Professor Armstrong, whereby, using instruments and instruments worth three or even four hundred pounds, completely abandoning all other sciences, with the undivided attention and assistance of an extremely gifted teacher, average student in ten to twelve years he would have more or less thoroughly acquired almost as much knowledge in chemistry as could be gleaned from the despicable textbooks that were very widespread at that time, the price of which was a shilling.
As you can see, in everything that does not concern science, both Redwood and Bensington were the most ordinary people. But, perhaps, they are beyond measure impractical. But all the scientists in the world are like that. With what is truly great in them, they only prick the eyes of their learned brothers; for the general public it remains a book with seven seals; but everyone notices their weaknesses.
The weaknesses of scientists are indisputable, like no one else’s, it is impossible not to notice them. These people live secludedly, in their own narrow world; Scientific research requires extreme concentration and almost monastic solitude from them, and there is almost nothing else they can do. Look at how another graying clumsy eccentric little man, who has made great discoveries and is adorned with a wide order ribbon to the hens’ laughter, timidly and with self-importance, accepts the congratulations of his brothers; you read in Nature the complaints about the “neglect of science” when some member of the Royal Society is passed over with an award on the day of his anniversary; listen to how another tireless researcher of mosses and lichens takes apart the solid work of his equally tireless colleague, and you will inevitably understand how petty and insignificant people are.
Meanwhile, two modest little scientists have created and continue to create something amazing, extraordinary, which promises unimaginable greatness and power for humanity in the future! It’s as if they themselves don’t know the value of what they do.
A long time ago, when Mr. Bensington, choosing a profession, decided to devote his life to alkaloids and similar substances, a vision probably flashed before his inner gaze and he was illuminated at least for a moment. After all, if it were not for the premonition, not the hope for fame and position, which only scientists are awarded, hardly anyone from youth would have devoted their entire life to such work. No, they were, of course, illuminated by a premonition of glory - and this vision probably turned out to be so bright that it blinded them. The shine blinded them, fortunately for them, so that for the rest of their lives they could calmly hold the torch of knowledge for us!
H.G. Wells
Food of the gods
Book one
DISCOVERY OF FOOD
By the middle of the nineteenth century, for the first time in our very strange world, a class of people (mostly elderly) began to grow who are quite correctly called “scholars”, but who hate the name. They dislike him to such an extent that in the journal Nature, which from the very beginning became their privileged organ, the word “scientist” is never used, as if it were not in the lexicon at all. But the public and the press nevertheless call them “scientists” when they are discussed. “Dear scientist”, “our famous scientist”, “venerable scientist” - this is how we usually call them.
Both Mr. Bensington and Professor Redwood undoubtedly deserved any of the above adjectives for the word "scientist" even before their wonderful discovery, which is discussed below. Mr. Bensington was a Fellow of the Royal Society and ex-President of the Chemical Society, and Professor Redwood read physiology at the Bond Street College of the University of London and was periodically subjected to severe persecution by anti-vivisectionists. Both devoted themselves to science from early youth and lived an academic life.
Like all scientists, they had a rather nondescript appearance. There is far more self-confidence in the manners and figure of any average actor than in all the members of the Royal Society put together. Mr. Bensington was short, bald, and had a slight stutter; he wore gold glasses and soft shoes, cut in many places due to the presence of calluses. There was nothing remarkable about Professor Redwood's appearance either. Before the discovery of “The Food of the Gods” (I insist on this name) they lived in such obscurity as only the greatest scientists can, and therefore I cannot tell the reader anything about their past.
Mr. Bensington won his spurs (if one can say so about a gentleman who wears soft boots) with his remarkable research into poisonous alkaloids, and Professor Redwood became famous for... I don’t even remember what! I only know that it’s something very important. He seems to have written a thick book on muscle reflexes, with numerous diagrams and beautifully compiled new terminology.
The general public, of course, knew nothing about either of these gentlemen. Sometimes, however, in places like the Royal Institution or the Academy of Arts, she had the opportunity to admire Mr. Bensington's purple baldness and stand-up collar and listen to his mutterings. Once, I remember, a very long time ago, when the British Association was meeting in Dover, I accidentally found myself in one of its sections - headed either C or B, or perhaps some other letter - and followed two very serious ladies simply out of curiosity I entered a dark room, on one of the walls of which a circle from a magic lantern with Professor Redwood’s diagrams, incomprehensible to me, appeared as a bright spot. For a long time I looked at the constantly changing drawings, listening to the hiss of the lantern, to to a quiet voice professor and to some other sounds, completely inexplicable, when suddenly the hall lit up, and I realized that these last sounds were caused by the friendly chewing of rolls and sandwiches brought with them by thrifty members of the Association.
Redwood continued to talk, pacing in front of the screen that had just displayed his diagrams. He looked very ordinary. Black-haired, thin, nervously hasty, he resembled a man who, while reading a report, was busy with something unrelated.
I also happened to listen to Bensington once - at a pedagogical congress in Bloomsbury. Like most chemists and botanists, he considered himself an expert in pedagogy, although, in my opinion, he would not even be suitable as a teacher. primary school. As I remember, Mr. Bensington was then advocating some improvement in Professor Armstrong's heuristic method, by which, with apparatus costing three or four hundred pounds, and with the utmost attention to the work of both pupils and teachers, the most ordinary boy could be within ten to twelve years, teach chemistry just as well as using the cheap textbooks then widespread.
Despite their learning, both respectable gentlemen were, as you see, the most ordinary people. Perhaps even less practical - this can be said about all scientists in the world. A wide audience does not notice anything remarkable in them, but the little things, on the contrary, catch everyone’s eye.
Generally speaking, there are no more petty people than scientists. They live for the most part in a close circle of fellow scientists, almost in a monastic atmosphere, always busy with their research. Apart from satisfying their own petty pride, they are not interested in anything. It’s funny to look at some small, dry, gray-haired, awkward and self-satisfied “great scientist” when, decorated with a wide ribbon of some order, he accepts the congratulations of his colleagues. It's funny to read laments in Nature magazine about "contempt for science" when the angel of New Year's awards passes the members of the Royal Society without leaving them anything to remember. It's funny to listen to some tireless worker in the field of histology of secretagogues when he criticizes the works of another such worker of the same venerable science. All this only illustrates human pettiness.
Despite their pettiness, however, our two scientists made an amazing discovery, fraught with important consequences for human race, something that only great people could do. They themselves, perhaps, did not realize the importance of what they were doing. Let us suppose that both Mr. Bensington and Professor Redwood in their youth, when choosing a profession for themselves, devoting their strength to the relevant sciences, could not help but be guided in part by fantasy - dreams of glory, of the greatness of their calling. Without such a dream, how could a young man devote himself entirely to a task that promises him only the position of a “scientist”?
No, they undoubtedly understood what they were doing, undoubtedly they dreamed, and not just delved into science. But the greatness of the discovery dawned on them so much that they themselves, seeing this greatness up close, stopped believing in it.
That may be why Redwood became so quarrelsome and irritable.
I call the substance that Bensington and Redwood discovered “Food of the Gods.” Subsequent events have already proven, and will continue to prove, that I am not exaggerating at all.
But Mr. Bensington was essentially as unable to give his discovery that name as to emerge from his flat in Slane Street in a purple toga and laurel wreath. This name came out of him at first under the influence of scientific delight, but he immediately recognized it as absurd.
As befits a true “scientist,” having seen the greatness up close, he immediately closed his eyes to it. To christen his discovery “Food of the Gods” seemed almost arrogant to him. He was even surprised that such a name escaped him in the first minute.
And yet... and yet, I believe that deep down in his soul he himself does not know real price of his discovery: this can be seen from him sometimes...
Well, yes, you know,” he once said, rubbing his hands and laughing nervously, “this is of interest not only from a theoretical point of view...
Then, leaning towards Professor Redwood's ear, he whispered:
If things were done properly, we could perhaps sell this as food, or at least as component food.
How to name? - he continued, answering Redwood's question and carefully examining the cuts on his soft boots. - It seems to me that we need to dwell on some subtle classical hint... This corresponds to the dignity of science. I thought... you might find my fantasy funny... but sometimes it's okay to fantasize a little... what do you say about Heracleophorbia? A? "Food of Hercules"?! But if you don't like it...
Redwood sat silently and did not object.
Perhaps we could call it Titanophorbia - “Food of the Titans”... Do you prefer the first name? Don't you think that it is somewhat...
No, I don't find it.
Ah, so much the better! I am glad!
So they called their discovery Heracleophorbia. This title was also used in the report to the Royal Society, which, however, was never published due to further unexpected events. As a matter of fact, there were four varieties of Heracleophorbia, and only the last of them, the fourth, I call here “Food of the Gods.”
The idea of the discovery belonged to Bensington, but since it was suggested to him by one of the works of Professor Redwood, Bensington considered it his duty to consult with this gentleman about further work. The idea itself was equally both from the field of physiology and from the field of chemistry.
PART ONE
THE BIRTH OF FOOD
DISCOVERY OF FOOD
In the middle of the nineteenth century, in our strange world, the number of people of that special category, for the most part, began to grow and multiply unprecedentedly
Middle-aged people who are called scientists - and they call it very correctly, although they don’t like it at all. I don’t like it so much that from the pages
The “nature” of the organ, which from the very beginning has served them as an eternal and unchanging mouthpiece, this word is carefully banished as a kind of obscenity. But
Madame the public and its press have a different opinion, she calls them only this way and not another, and if any of them attracts even a little
Please note, we call him “outstanding scientist”, “venerable scientist”, “famous scientist”, or even more magnificently.
Of course, both Mr. Bensington and Professor Redwood fully deserved all these titles long before their amazing discovery, about which
This book will tell. Mr. Bensington was a Fellow of the Royal Society, and past President of the Chemical Society, and Professor
Redwood taught a course in physiology at Bond Street College, University of London, and was more than once subject to furious attacks from anti-vivisectionists.
Both devoted themselves entirely to science from a young age.
Of course, like all true scientists, in appearance both of them were unremarkable. In the posture and manners of any most modest actor
More dignity than all the members of the Royal Society put together. Mr. Bensington was short, stooped and extremely bald, wearing
Gold-rimmed glasses and cloth shoes, cut in many places due to countless calluses. Professor Redwood's appearance was also
The most ordinary one. Until they had a chance to discover the Food of the Gods (I have to insist on this name), their lives passed in worthy and unknown
Academic studies, and the reader has absolutely nothing to tell about her.
Mr. Bensington won the knight's spurs (if one can say so about a gentleman wearing split cloth shoes) with his brilliant
Research into the most poisonous alkaloids, and Professor Redwood immortalized himself... really, I don’t remember what exactly. I only know that something
Then he immortalized himself. And fame usually gets louder the further it goes. It seems that his extensive work on muscle reflexes, equipped with
Lots of tables, sphygmographic curves (if I'm confused, please correct me) and new excellent terminology.
The general public had a rather vague idea of these gentlemen. Occasionally in the Royal Society, in the Society for the Promotion of Crafts and
In such establishments she had the opportunity to look at Mr. Bensington, or at least at his ruddy bald head, the edge of his collar
Or a frock coat and listen to fragments of a lecture or article, which, as it seemed to him, he read quite clearly; I remember once, an eternity ago,
When the British Association was meeting in Dover, I wandered into one of its sections - either B or C; - located in a tavern; from pure
Out of curiosity, I followed two serious ladies with paper bundles under their arms through the door marked “Billiard Room” and found myself in a completely
Indecent darkness, broken only by the beam of the magic lantern with which Redwood showed his tables.
I looked at slide after slide and listened to a voice that most likely belonged to Professor Redwood - I don’t remember what he was talking about;
In addition, in the darkness I could hear the buzzing of a magic lantern and some other strange sounds - I could not understand what it was, and curiosity
It didn't let me leave.
This is a work of fiction. It describes the story of unfortunate inventors who created miraculous food. This food transformed all living organisms.
In a small village, scientists carried out their scientific activity. They created a supplement that was added to the chicks' food. The food turned out to be specific, and the result was unusual. The little chicks have reached incredible sizes. As a result of the negligence of the scientists' assistants, the birds escaped into the wild. From then on, terrible things began to happen in the village.
Other experimental animals and insects also tasted this food. They began to pose a great danger to all living things. The victims of the experiment began to attack people.
Scientists urgently destroyed all the buildings where they conducted their experiments.
Then they came up with the idea of feeding children this supplement. Scientists have accomplished it. Little children quickly turned into giants. Normal people were not prepared for such a turn of events. The giants had to be destroyed. Scientists, thanks to their monstrous experiments, were not recognized as people, they had to hide.
The work teaches you to think about your actions. Not all inventions are beneficial.
Picture or drawing Food of the Gods
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Wells Herbert
Food of the gods
H.G. Wells
Food of the gods
PART ONE. THE BIRTH OF FOOD
1. DISCOVERY OF FOOD
In the middle of the nineteenth century, in our strange world, the number of people of that special category, mostly middle-aged, who are called scientists - and they are called very correctly, even though they do not like it at all, began to grow and multiply unprecedentedly. I don’t like it so much that from the pages of “Nature”, the organ that from the very beginning has served as their eternal and unchanging mouthpiece, this word is carefully expelled as some kind of obscenity. But Madame the public and its press have a different opinion, it calls them only this way and not another, and if any of them attracts even a little attention, we call him “outstanding scientist”, “venerable scientist”, “famous scientist,” or even more magnificent.
Of course, both Mr. Bensington and Professor Redwood fully deserved all these titles long before their amazing discovery, which this book will tell about. Mr. Bensington was a Fellow of the Royal Society, and a former President of the Chemical Society, while Professor Redwood taught a course in physiology at Bond Street College, University of London, and was more than once the subject of furious attacks from anti-vivisectionists. Both devoted themselves entirely to science from a young age.
Of course, like all true scientists, in appearance both of them were unremarkable. There is far more dignity in the bearing and manners of any humble actor than in all the members of the Royal Society put together. Mr. Bensington was short, stooped and extremely bald, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and cloth shoes cut in many places due to countless calluses. Professor Redwood's appearance was also very ordinary. Until they had the chance to discover the Food of the Gods (I am forced to insist on this name), their life was spent in worthy and unknown scientific pursuits, and the reader has absolutely nothing to tell about it.
Mr. Bensington won the knight's spurs (if one can say so about a gentleman wearing slashed cloth shoes) with his brilliant research into the most poisonous alkaloids, and Professor Redwood immortalized himself... I really don't remember how exactly. I only know that somehow he immortalized himself. And fame usually gets louder the further it goes. It seems that his fame was brought to him by an extensive work on muscle reflexes, equipped with many tables, sphygmographic curves (if I am confused, please correct me) and new excellent terminology.
The general public had a rather vague idea of these gentlemen. Occasionally at the Royal Society, at the Society for the Advancement of Crafts, and similar institutions, she had the opportunity to look at Mr. Bensington, or at least at his ruddy bald head, the edge of his collar or frock coat, and listen to fragments of a lecture or article, which, as it seemed to him, he read quite clearly ; I remember once, an eternity ago, when the British Association was meeting in Dover, I wandered into one of its sections - either B or C; - located in a tavern; out of pure curiosity, I followed two serious ladies with paper parcels under their arms through the door marked “Billiard Room” and found myself in completely indecent darkness, broken only by the beam of the magic lantern with which Redwood showed his tables.
I looked at slide after slide and listened to a voice that most likely belonged to Professor Redwood - I don’t remember what he was talking about; In addition, in the darkness I could hear the buzzing of a magic lantern and some other strange sounds - I could not understand what it was, and curiosity would not let me go. And then suddenly the light flashed, and then I realized that the strange sounds were coming from chewing mouths, for members of the scientific society had gathered here, at the magic lantern, to chew buns, sandwiches and other foods under the cover of darkness.
I remember that all the time the light was on, Redwood continued to say something and poke his pointer at the place on the screen where the table was supposed to be and where we saw it again when it finally became dark again. I remember that he seemed to me then the most ordinary person: dark skin, slightly restless movements, looking as if he was absorbed in some thoughts of his own, and now he was reading the report simply out of a sense of duty.
I once heard Bensington in those long-gone times; It was in Bloomsbury at a teachers' conference. Like most eminent chemists and botanists, Mr. Bensington spoke with great authority on matters of teaching, although I am sure that the most ordinary class of any boarding school would have scared him half to death in the first half hour; As far as I remember, he proposed to improve Professor Armstrong's heuristic method, by which, using instruments and instruments worth three or even four hundred pounds, completely abandoning all other sciences, with the undivided attention and assistance of an extremely gifted teacher, the average student for ten to twelve years, I would have more or less thoroughly acquired almost as much knowledge in chemistry as could be gleaned from the despicable textbooks that were very widespread at that time, the price of which was a shilling.
As you can see, in everything that does not concern science, both Redwood and Bensington were the most ordinary people. But, perhaps, they are beyond measure impractical. But all the scientists in the world are like that. With what is truly great in them, they only prick the eyes of their learned brothers; for the general public it remains a book with seven seals; but everyone notices their weaknesses.
The weaknesses of scientists are indisputable, like no one else’s, it is impossible not to notice them. These people live secludedly, in their own narrow world; Scientific research requires extreme concentration and almost monastic solitude from them, and there is almost nothing else they can do. Look how another greying, clumsy eccentric, a little man who has made great discoveries and is decorated with a wide order ribbon to laugh at the chickens, timidly and with self-importance, accepts the congratulations of his brothers; you read in Nature the complaints about the “neglect of science” when some member of the Royal Society is passed over with an award on the day of his anniversary; listen to how another tireless researcher of mosses and lichens takes apart the solid work of his equally tireless colleague, and you will inevitably understand how petty and insignificant people are.
Meanwhile, two modest little scientists have created and continue to create something amazing, extraordinary, which promises unimaginable greatness and power for humanity in the future! It’s as if they themselves don’t know the value of what they do.
A long time ago, when Mr. Bensington, choosing a profession, decided to devote his life to alkaloids and similar substances, a vision probably flashed before his inner gaze and he was illuminated at least for a moment. After all, if it were not for the premonition, not the hope for fame and position, which only scientists are awarded, hardly anyone from youth would have devoted their entire life to such work. No, they were, of course, illuminated by a premonition of glory - and this vision probably turned out to be so bright that it blinded them. The shine blinded them, fortunately for them, so that for the rest of their lives they could calmly hold the torch of knowledge for us!
Perhaps some of the oddities of Redwood, who seemed out of this world, are explained by the fact that he (there is no doubt about it now) was somewhat different from his brothers, he was different, because before his eyes that a long-standing dazzling vision.
“Food of the Gods” is what I call the substance that Mr. Bensington and Professor Redwood created; and, considering the fruits it has already borne and will certainly bear in the future, the name is well deserved. That’s why I will continue to call her that. But Mr. Bensington, in his right mind and strong memory, was not capable of such loud words; it would be the same as leaving the house on Sloane Street dressed in royal purple and with a laurel wreath on his brow. These words came out of him in the first minute simply out of amazement. He called his creation the Food of the Gods, overwhelmed with delight, and it lasted no more than an hour. And then he decided that he was being ridiculous. At first, thinking about their general discovery, it was as if he saw with his own eyes the immense possibilities, truly immense, the sight amazed and blinded him, but, as befits a conscientious scientist, he immediately closed his eyes so as not to see. After this, the name “Food of the Gods” already seemed loud to him, almost indecent. He was surprised at himself: how such an expression escaped his tongue!
And yet, this fleeting insight did not pass without a trace, but reminded itself again and again.
Really,” he said, rubbing his hands and laughing nervously, “this is not only of theoretical interest. For example,” he leaned confidentially towards Professor Redwood and lowered his voice, “if you tackle this skillfully, it will probably even be possible to sell it... sell it as a food product,” he continued, moving to the other end of the room. - Or at least as a power supply. Provided, of course, that it is edible. And we don’t know this until we make it.