"Martin, Michael A - AtTheCavern" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin Michael A)

MICHAEL A. MARTIN

SPELUNKING AT THE CAVERN

When Michael Martin wrote "Spelunking at the Cavern," he was living in San
Francisco, traveling up and down the West Coast selling Marvel Comics to the
direct-market comic book specialty stores. He was hired away by Dark Horse
Comics in Portland, Oregon -- and during the transition (quite literally), he
learned of his first short fiction sale. He notes that he owes Harlan Ellison a
great debt of appreciation for all of his support.

It isn't every day that you run into yourself. The first time it happened to me,
I was standing outside, a noisy dive on Mathew Street in the gray heart of the
dockside warehouse district m Liverpool. I'd been inside the club only once and
already did not particularly want to go back. The din was frightening, and the
place lacked even the most rudimentary air conditioning. The sweat of the
leather-clad multitudes packed inside ran in dank rivulets down the walls. I
hadn't come all the way back to 1958 merely to subject myself to this sort of
thing. Unfortunately, the nature of my mission made visiting this place a sorry
necessity.

The Critical Incident, the event that would change my subject's life forever,
wasn't due to happen until next Tuesday evening and it was now Saturday
afternoon. I decided to use the time to reconnoiter, maybe do a little research
and reading at the local library, maybe take some photos. But the first priority
was to take in a meal.

Across Mathew Street from the Cavern Club lay an old-fashioned British
fish-and-chips and beer pub of the sort that had flourished nearly two centuries
ago, which is to say now. The light was dim in the comers of the tiny place, and
the upholstery was old. The place stank of stale grease, but none of the other
dozen or so patrons seemed to notice. I took a booth near the back and had just
picked up a menu when I locked eyes with the man I least expected to see. He saw
me, too, and came over to my booth.

"Have a seat," I said, regarding the face that stared back at me each morning
from the shaving mirror. He did, and thanked me.

"What brings you to mid-twencen?" he asked.

"Same thing as you, I guess," I said. "Temporal trails. Evidence of
time-tampering. You're here, after all. Maybe that's reason enough."

"And I thought I was drawn here by all that stomping they're doing right now
over at the Cavern Club," my doppelganger said with a chuckle. "Are you here
from Alternitech, too?"

I nodded. "Publishing Division."