"Jay Lake - White Boyz" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lake Jay)

Whyte Boyz
Jay Lake

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“Steve Barnes once said that science fiction is about white people and their
imaginary friends. That struck me very funny, very true, and rather sad all at once.
This story came to me as a voice, really, implying a tale, and somehow that got
twisted into Steve’s comment. In a very real sense, it’s also been influenced by John
McLoughlin’s long-neglected novel The Helix and the Sword, which deserves far
more attention than it ever got. At its heart, like most of what I write, it’s a story
about a boy.”

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HAPLOID COMES THE FUTURE

Blood arcs, the flight of a gutshot bird. Obsidian-weighted piano wire sings a
bright-mad death song as the boyz dance through the flails of one another’s arms,
threshing and harvesting the cullz. Smartroad bounces beneath their feet, so much
foam now that the wits and money have departed for warmer, darker climes beyond
high orbit. There is little left for these boyz save the dance which is in and upon their
blood.

They are whyte niggaz in the Darkman’s world.

Somewhere the Darkman laughs, thunder rolling off his lips in an echo of
pristine granite valleys lost to both access and imagination. Somewhere the
Darkman’s eyes glimmer beetle-winged and shadowed, pools of power set with
rolling bounds of epicanthic fat. Somewhere the Darkman thinks a wish and his wish
is brought to truth in the electron rush of a gleaming moment, his steel-honed and
mirror-sharp world bent to the devices of his desire.

Somewhere trees shiver with the wind of his passage and the very soil
fountains forth. Somewhere is peace, the simple architecture of contentment, even
perhaps justice.

But not here, not where the boyz dance.

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Gayan would be a scavenger, he thinks, save for the larger, older, paler ones
that push him to the margins. His is an ancient resentment, festering in the hearts of
generations of the poor, a universal virus of need and deprivation. Even the ragged
must have someone to hate, to hurt, to turn away from in disgust—that would be
Gayan.