"David Marusek - The Wedding Album" - читать интересную книгу автора (Marusek David)

"So let’s waltz," Benjamin said and reached for her. But his arms passed through her in a flash of
pixelated noise. He frowned and examined his hands.

Anne hardly noticed. Nothing could diminish her happiness. She was drawn to the table of
wedding gifts. Of all the gifts, there was only one-a long flat box in flecked silver wrapping-that
she was most keen to open. It was from Great Uncle Karl. When it came down to it, Anne was
both the easiest and the hardest person to shop for. While everyone knew of her passion for
antiques, few had the means or expertise to buy one. She reached for Karl’s package, but her
hand passed right through it. This isn’t happening, she thought with gleeful horror.

That it was, in fact, happening was confirmed a moment later when a dozen people-Great Uncle
Karl, Nancy, Aunt Jennifer, Traci, Cathy and Tom, the bridesmaids and others, including Anne
herself, and Benjamin, still in their wedding clothes-all trooped through the wall wearing
wraparound goggles. "Nice job," said Great Uncle Karl, inspecting the room, "first rate."

"Ooooh," said Aunt Jennifer, comparing the identical wedding couples, identical but for the
goggles. It made Anne uncomfortable that the other Anne should be wearing goggles while she
wasn’t. And the other Benjamin acted a little drunk and wore a smudge of white frosting on his
lapel. We’ve cut the cake, she thought happily, although she couldn’t remember doing so. Geri,
the flower girl in a pastel dress, and Angus, the ring bearer in a miniature tux, along with a knot of
other dressed-up children, charged through the sofa, back and forth, creating pyrotechnic
explosions of digital noise. They would have run through Benjamin and Anne, too, had the adults
allowed. Anne’s father came through the wall with a bottle of champagne. He paused when he
saw Anne but turned to the other Anne and freshened her glass.

"Wait a minute!" shouted Benjamin, waving his arms above his head. "I get it now. We’re the
sims!" The guests all laughed, and he laughed too. "I guess my sims always say that, don’t they?"
The other Benjamin nodded yes and sipped his champagne. "I just never expected to be a sim,"
Benjamin went on. This brought another round of laughter, and he said sheepishly, "I guess my
sims all say that, too."

The other Benjamin said, "Now that we have the obligatory epiphany out of the way," and took a
bow. The guests applauded.

Cathy, with Tom in tow, approached Anne. "Look what I caught," she said and showed Anne the
forget-me-not and buttercup bouquet. "I guess we know what that means." Tom, intent on
straightening his tie, seemed not to hear. But Anne knew what it meant. It meant they’d tossed
the bouquet. All the silly little rituals that she had so looked forward to.

"Good for you," she said and offered her own clutch, which she still held, for comparison. The real
one was wilting and a little ragged around the edges, with missing petals and sprigs, while hers
was still fresh and pristine and would remain so eternally. "Here," she said, "take mine, too, for
double luck." But when she tried to give Cathy the bouquet, she couldn’t let go of it. She opened
her hand and discovered a seam where the clutch joined her palm. It was part of her. Funny, she
thought, I’m not afraid. Ever since she was little, Anne had feared that some day she would
suddenly realize she wasn’t herself anymore. It was a dreadful notion that sometimes oppressed
her for weeks: knowing you weren’t yourself. But her sims didn’t seem to mind it. She had about
three dozen Annes in her album, from age twelve on up. Her sims tended to be a morose lot, but
they all agreed it wasn’t so bad, the life of a sim, once you got over the initial shock. The first