"Joe Haldeman - Guardian" - читать интересную книгу автора (Haldeman Joe)

better than the noise and danger) and read with some difficulty but with increasing
fascination. It was about a man on Earth who is able to talk with a spirit creature who
roams from world to world, in space.
It's worth noting for modern readers that in those days, before it had been proven
that the moon and Mars were lifeless, the idea of life on other worlds was not at all
fantastic. The astronomy books that I read at Wellesley generally assumed that most or
even all of the planets were inhabited. But this French novel made it seem quite real.
I went back up to the hurricane deck for some supper and found Daniel quite
woozy and giggly He had obviously gotten into the punch or some such libation. T
couldn't be too stern with him, since after all I should have been keeping an eye on him
rather than reading. But I sent him down to the cabin to nap, saying I would come get
him if there were fireworks.
The shooting had stopped, so I sat out on the foredeck to read, while the sour old
lady knitted away silently. Perhaps influenced by the book, I noted in my diary that the
sunset had an unearthly beauty, the cloudless sky going from lemon-yellow to crimson,
the moon a barely visible fingernail paring, diving after the sun. I wondered what sunsets
would be like on worlds like Jupiter, which, I knew from the telescope at school, had
skies already full of color, and many large moons.
I roused Daniel, only a little groggy, because the pilot had said we'd be passing
Wabasha as it got dark, and they'd certainly have some sort of display.
While we waited I told him all about the Flammarion book, and he was pretty
excited until I admitted that it was in French,
not his favorite subject. He'd liked the language so little he'd switched to Latin.
He did much better in it than his mother had.
Indeed there were fireworks, and although they were some miles away, that in
itself was a little exotic and charming. Instead of being in the middle of them, we were
distant observers, the faint popping sounds seemingly random, unassociated with the
bursts of sparks and stars.
Of course the gentlemen had to unleash their revolvers and fire them into the air,
in accompaniment. It's a good thing we weren't in any danger from savage Indians. Our
gallant protectors would run out of ammunition and we'd all be scalped.
I read until past midnight, sipping a little more sherry than I was accustomed to. I
had a strange and compelling dream, strong and odd enough for me to mention it in the
next day's diary entry. More than fifty years later, I'm struck by the element of prophecy
in it: I dreamed that an unearthly creature, whose shape was indistinct, took me to
worlds that were dreams within a dream. I knew I was dreaming, but that dream partook
of a strange reality, as did the dream within it.
I had a headache the next day bad enough to keep me in bed until noon. I was
grateful that there was no more gunplay; maybe the men who had been up all night doing
it were in no better condition than me.
Daniel slept late but otherwise seemed not to show any aftereffects from his
excesses. He went out for breakfast and brought me back some salicylate of soda, which
the cook was selling in penny packets. I drank it down with a pint of cool water, and my
condition did improve. When I went up for a bowl of soup I was treated to the sight of
Trempealeau Island, five hundred feet high and most beautiful.
The fifth was Daniel's birthday. I found him up on the hurricane deck, reading a
week-old newspaper, and gave him his present: Stevenson's The Strange Case of Dr.
Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, He devoured it in one long sitting, and for years it was his favorite
book. I later read it, though, and wondered whether it might have been too horrific for a
boy his age. If somebody had told me chat in my later years I would be writing equally