"Nancy Kress - Stinger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kress Nancy)

Peter Reading, he of the racially provocative first
name and reassuringly capitalist last one, was a
handsome man. On top of everything else.
The audience laughed again. Beside Larson, an
elderly white man in preppy khaki trousers nodded
thoughtfully. A young black couple in the row
ahead—she wore one of those African headscarf
things, he had on a Grateful Dead T-shirt—grinned
at each other delightedly. Even the cop stationed at
the door looked impressed.
Jesus. If Reading could do this equally well in
New Hampshire, the primary would be a walk.
Larson’s head whirled. In a flash—it felt like that,
a brilliant flash of Technicolor light—he pictured
himself at the White House, still advising long after
the campaign was over, still necessary… to the
president of the United States. In the Oval Office, at
a press conference in the Rose Garden, on Air Force
One…
Rein it in, Larson.
He did. From long habit, from innate skepticism.
Keep grounded, keep focused. Listen to what the
candidate is saying here and now, not at some
hypothetical moment in some hypothetically
glorious future. More important, listen to the
audience. How is the candidate playing now?
From his wooden folding chair on the far left side
of the auditorium, Larson bent forward, hands on
his knees, intent gaze scanning the audience
overflowing the small room and craning necks in
the hall outside. Thus it was that he missed the
beginning of Reading’s trouble. He didn’t notice it
until the audience began to frown, to twitch, to
glance at each other in concern. Larsons eyes
snapped to the stage.
“… policies that… embrace all of… that
embrace…”
Reading stopped speaking. He seemed dazed,
uncertain. Sweat glistened on his forehead. His eyes
unfocused, then focused again with what looked to
Larson like a supreme act of will.
“… policies embrace… our diversity… policies…”
Suddenly the left side of Reading’s body jerked.
His left hand fell from the lectern, dangled
helplessly by his side. He swayed and crashed to the
floor, thrashing to the left of the lectern and coming
to rest at the very edge of the wooden stage.
Anita Reading screamed. People rose to their
feet, calling out. A few tried to climb onto the stage.
Larson stood immobile. He knew what he was