"J. Brian Clarke - Hell Aint What It Used To Be" - читать интересную книгу автора (Clarke Brian J)

Smith said, "You have not lived a good life, you know."
On the slight chance the woman exaggerated when she
informed me of my demise, I decided not to incriminate
myself. "Anything specific in mind?"
She consulted the computer monitor. "According to your
file, you started out as an unpleasant child and never grew
out of it. You cheated your way through school and college.
You got a young woman pregnant, promised to marry her and
then abandoned her. You did not even bother to turn up at
her funeral. You faked a colleague's research data as your
own and got a prestigious award. You swindled your mother
out of most of her savings, and after her stroke abandoned
her in a public institution. Although you were regularly
unfaithful to your wife, you divorced her on trumped-up
evidence of her infidelity and got sole custody of your
daughter Celia--who you raised according to your own twisted
precepts." She looked up. "Have I missed anything?"
"I was a pretty good entrepreneur," I said, determined
to defend myself.
"Referring to Vraskin Drugs, I presume."
"Damn right. Given another year or so, that Gates
fellow would be breathing my dust!"
She was not impressed. "That is more a matter for our
commercial division--who, by the way, did provide
appropriate input. But if you wish to discuss--"
"Don't bother," I interrupted, regretting I had brought
up the subject. "Let's just get this rigmarole over with,
OK?"
"Rigmarole?", she echoed mildly.
"Look, I am quite aware I am headed for an overheated
environment staffed by people with pitchforks and a bad
attitude!"
"Oh dear, you are confused." Smith touched a computer
key and the drapes rolled aside from a large picture window.
Sunlight flooded the office; a golden illumination which
caressed the skin and did not hurt the eyes. "What do you
see?"
For a few seconds I was speechless. I can say I saw
lush green fields, rolling hills, the towers and spires of a
gleaming city in the distance, and it would be true. But
mere words can never describe the overpowering beauty of the
place. It was beyond language.
"Is that Heaven?"
"We prefer the name Elysium." A bony finger indicated
the door labeled E. "The way is through there. But as you
have pointed out, it is not for you."
I forced my attention to the door then tried not to
look again through the window. It was difficult. "You don't
need to rub it in," I muttered.
She closed the drapes, making me regret I did not take