"Bourne-GreatWorks" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bourne Mark)

MARK BOURNE

GREAT WORKS OF WESTERN LITERATURE

EXHAUSTED, JESSUP SEES THE change as it happens this time. On page 1548 of The
Experience of Literature, 3rd ed., in the chronological listing of the works of
Ernest Hemingway, the title The Old Man and the Sea materializes in crisp, black
letters. Other words on the page crawl away to make room for the new addition.
Jessup flips through the dog-eared ricepaper pages to the essay "Papa and His
Time" by Prof. E.C. Gwaltney, Ph.D. Jessup's margin notes and underlinings from
college are still barely legible as faded pencil graffiti. Then there it is,
appearing in a newly vacant part of the page: "After the publication of The Old
Man and the Sea, a nearly flawless short novel, Hemingway was awarded the
Pulitzer and Nobel Prizes with a promptness that suggested an overdue
recognition."

The anger bursts within him more explosively than last time, and Jessup flings
the book at the shelves lining one wall of his cramped apartment.

"It's mine!" he cries for the thousandth time. "Fucking damn it!" He stares at
his word processor's glowing screen. Blank. No point in searching through the
hard drive's files. Sour acid rises from his stomach.

His latest work -- another product of solitude, missed meals, and passion -- is
gone. Like the others, The Old Man and the Sea has been erased. No, not erased.
Stolen.

Jessup kicks savagely at the books on the floor and bellows like a trapped
animal. He unbars the door, yanks it open, walks stiffly down the dim hallway,
and emerges into the night's cold, gray rain. The wet pavement sucks up the
street lamp's oily halo, leaving no color in Jessup's view. From an open window,
a radio blares. On the Sol Network, His Radiance is announcing another decree to
suppress the latest uprisings on the west coast.

Jessup pounds the iron grating. The door behind it opens an inch. A tired-
looking eye peers through the taut security chains.

"Whoizzit -- Jessup!"

The door closes and Jessup hears the chains being unlatched. There is a moment's
pause. Alya always thinks she looks like shit in the morning, so Jessup knows
she is combing her fingers through her short, brown hair. The door opens. She
unlocks the protective gate and pulls Jessup, shivering and dripping, into her
living room.

"What're you doing out in this weather? What time is it?" She glances at the
clock near the shrine. Two thirty-six. "Sraosh and Rashnu!" she swears. "What's
wrong.? You want some coffee? Dry yourself off, at least." She goes into the