"Kim Stanley Robinson - Fifty Degrees Below" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Kim Stanley)

Nobody likes Washington, D. C. Even the people who love it don't like it. Climate atrocious,
traffic worse: an ordinary midsized gridlocked American city, in which the plump white federal
buildings make no real difference. Or rather they bring all the politicians and tourists, the lobbyists
and diplomats and refugees and all the others who come from somewhere else, often for suspect
reasons, and thereafter spend their time clogging the streets and hogging the show, talking endlessly
about their nonexistent city on a hill while ignoring the actual city they are in. The bad taste of all
that hypocrisy can't be washed away even by the food and drink of a million very fine restaurants.
No—bastion of the world government, locked vault of the World Bank, fortress headquarters of the
world police; Rome, in the age of bread and circuses—no one can like that.
So naturally when the great flood washed over the city, wreaking havoc and leaving the capital
spluttering in the livid heat of a wet and bedraggled May, the stated reactions were varied, but the
underlying subtext often went something like this: HA HA HA. For there were many people
around the world who felt that justice had somehow been served. Capital of the world, thoroughly
trashed: who wouldn't love it?
Of course the usual things were said by the usual parties. Disaster area, emergency relief, danger
of epidemic, immediate restoration, pride of the nation, etc. Indeed, as capital of the world, the
president was firm in his insistence that it was everyone's patriotic duty to support rebuilding,
demonstrating a brave and stalwart response to what he called "this act of climactic terrorism."
"From now on," the president continued, "we are at a state of war with nature. We will work until
we have made this city even more like it was than before."
But truth to tell, ever since the Reagan era the conservative (or dominant) wing of the
Republican party had been coming to Washington explicitly to destroy the federal government.
They had talked about "starving the beast," but flooding would be fine if it came to that; they were
flexible, it was results that counted. And how could the federal government continue to burden
ordinary Americans when its center of operations was devastated? Why, it would have to struggle
just to get back to normal! Obviously the flood was a punishment for daring to tax income and
pretending to be a secular nation. One couldn't help thinking of Sodom and Gomorrah, the
prophecies specified in the Book of Revelation, and so on.
Meanwhile, those on the opposite end of the political spectrum likewise did not shed very many
tears over the disaster. As a blow to the heart of the galactic imperium it was a hard thing to regret.
It might impede the ruling caste for a while, might make them acknowledge, perhaps, that their
economic system had changed the climate, and that this was only the first of many catastrophic
consequences. If Washington was denied now that it was begging for help, that was only what it
had always done to its environmental victims in the past. Nature bats last—poetic justice—level
playing field—reap what you sow—rich arrogant bastards—and so on.
Thus the flood brought pleasure to both sides of the aisle. And in the days that followed Congress
made it clear in their votes, if not in their words, that they were not going to appropriate anything
like the amount of money it would take to clean up the mess. They said it had to be done; they
ordered it done; but they did not fund it.
The city therefore had to pin its hopes on either the beggared District of Columbia, which already
knew all there was to know about unfunded mandates from Congress, to the extent that for years
their license plates had proclaimed "Taxation Without Representation"; or on the federal agencies
specifically charged with disaster relief, like FEMA and the Army Corps of Engineers and others
that could be expected to help in the ordinary course of their missions (and budgets).
Experts from these agencies tried to explain that the flood did not have a moral meaning, that it
was merely a practical problem in city management, which had to be solved as a simple matter of
public health, safety, and convenience. The Potomac had ballooned into a temporary lake of about a