"James Van Pelt - Of Late I Dreamt of Venus" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pelt James Van)

Of Late I Dreamt of Venus
by James Van Pelt




L
ike a shiny pie plate, Venus hung high in the observation alcove’s
window, a full globe afire with sunlight. Elizabeth Audrey
contemplated its placid surface. Many would say it was
gorgeous. Alexander Pope called the bright light “the torch of Venus,”
and some ancient astronomer, besotted with the winkless glimmer
named the planet after the goddess of love and beauty. At this distance,
clouded bands swirled across the shimmering lamp, illuminating the dark
room. She held her hands behind her back, feet apart, watching the
flowing weather patterns. Henry Harrison, her young assistant, sat at a
console to the window’s side.
“Soon,” he said.
“Shhh.” She sniffed. The air smelled of cold machinery and air
scrubbers, a tainted chemical breath with no organic trace about it.
Beyond Venus’ wet light, a mantle of stars shown with measured
steadiness. One slipped behind the planet’s fully lit edge. Elizabeth
could measure their orbit’s progress by the swallowing and spitting out of
stars.
Elizabeth said, “Did you talk to the surgeon about your scar?”
Henry touched the side of his face, tracing a line from the corner of
his eye to his ear.
“No. It didn’t seem important.”
“You don’t need to live with it. A little surgery. You heal in deep
sleep. Two hundred years from now when we wake, you’ll be . . .
improved.” She lifted her foot from the floor with a magnetic click and
then snapped down hard a few inches away. “I hate free fall. How long?”
“Final countdown. We’ll be back in the carousel soon and you can
have your weight again.”



1
James Van Pelt


The scene from the window cast a mellow light. Silent. Grand. A
poet would write about it if one were here.
“Ahh,” said Elizabeth. A red pustule rose in the planet’s swirling
atmosphere. She leaned forward, put her palms against the window.
Orange light boiled in the clouds, spreading away from the bloody
center, disrupting the bands. “It’s begun.”
Henry read data on his screens. Input numbers. Checked other
monitors. Tapped keys quickly. “A clean hit, on target.” He didn’t look
at the actual show beyond, but watched his sensitive devices instead.