"Ken Macleod - Learning the World" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacLeod Ken)

"Like the bottom of a boat?"
"In a way, yes. It's really the base of the engine, and it's the first part of the ship to
be put in place. You will find the date of the final assembly there. And from that you
can work out the age of the world."
"You don't know what it is?"
"No," she said. She frowned, in the way adults have when they're searching. "It isn't
in memory."
"All right," I said. "I'll go and have a look."
"Good for you," she said. "I'll help you pack." So thirty minutes later I hitched my
little rucksack, heavy with a litre of water and a kilo of sandwiches, onto my
shoulders and set off to climb into the sky. I walked out of the estate and after a
while I found a lad-der at the edge of a dense and ancient clump of trees. The ladder
had been familiar to me since I was much smaller, but none of us had ever climbed
more than a few score steps on it. It soared into the sky like a kite string, the kinks of
its zigzag flights smoothing into a pale line and then disappearing. You couldn't
easily fall off it—it had close-spaced rings around it, and every thirty metres or so
there was a small platform and another flight. The first day I climbed a kilometre,
found a big platform, ate my sandwiches and drank my water, and pissed in a far
corner like an untrained kit-ten. I sat and watched the shadowline creep across the
land towards me. It reached me in what seemed a final rush, and the sunline turned
black. The land below was dim and beautiful in the farlight from the other side of the
world, and within minutes lights pricked on all across that shaded scene. After a
while I curled up and went to sleep. When I woke the sunline was bright again. It
seemed as far away as ever, and the ground a long way below. I was just thinking of
setting off back down when a crow landed on the platform, carrying a package.
"Breakfast," said the bird. "And dinner. Your ma says hi."
"Tell her thank you," I said.
"Will do," said the crow, and flew off. Crows don't have much conversation. I
unwrapped the package and found, to my great delight, hot coffee and hot
berry-bread for breakfast, and a fresh bottle of water and an-other pack of
sandwiches for later. As I ate my breakfast I let my clothes clean me. Normally I
would have washed. The clothes did a reasonable job but made my skin feel crawly
and tickly. After I had eaten I chewed a tooth-cleaner and gazed around. The estate
looked tiny, and I could see a whole sweep of other es-tates and towns, lakes and
hills and plains, along and around. I was almost level with the tops of the slag heaps
piled against the forward wall. Between me and the sunline a few clouds drifted: far
away, I could see rain falling from one, onto a town. It was strange to see rain from
the outside, as a distinct thing rather than a condition. More interesting was to see
aircraft flying high above me, and a few below, taking off or landing. I faced
resolutely upward, and continued my climb.
Of course I did not climb all the way. I was a tough and determined person, but it
would have taken a month even if the ladder had extended all the way there, which it
did not. What happened, about halfway through my second day, was that a small
aircraft landed on a large platform a few hundred metres above me, and when I
reached it, a man stood waiting for me. He even reached over and took my hand and
hauled me up the last few steps, which I thought was unneces-sary, but I made no
objection. He then backed away and we looked at each other for a few seconds. He
was wearing a loose black suit, and his skin was not a lot lighter. His features might
have been carved out of mahogany, with deep lines scored in it around the eyes and
mouth. "My name is Constantine the Oldest Man," he said. The name meant nothing