"Rudy Rucker - Hieronymus Bosch's Apprentice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rucker Rudy)

“I can’t see the harp?” said Azaroth, incredulous.

The painter set down his brush and walked over to them, keeping an eye on Jayjay and Thuy. He
accepted the dogfish from Azaroth, set it on his work table and propped its mouth open with a porcupine
quill. “Hello,” he said to the dogfish, making his voice thin. “Do you bring a message from the King of
Hell?”

Bosch was playing—seeking inspiration by enacting a little scene that he might paint. To ingratiate
himself, Jayjay responded as if speaking for the fish, flopping his tongue to make his words soft and
slimy. “The pitchfork wants to strum the harp,” he said, nothing better popping into his head. “The harp
and the pitchfork are God.” He reached out with is hand and waggled the fish’s gelatinous brown tail.

Bosch nodded, appreciating the mummery, if not taking the words seriously. He was studying the singular
objects on his table, nudging them this way and that with the tip of his delicate, ochre-stained finger—as if
composing a scene. “Would it be heresy to say all things have souls?” he said, suddenly fixing his eyes on
Jayjay.

“Where I come from, it’s obvious that everything is alive,” said Jayjay, feeling a closeness to Bosch that
was nearly telepathic. He slowed down his voice to seem less strange. “Nobody debates it. It’s a fact of
nature, not an insult to God. We talk to our objects and they talk back. That shell there, it might be
saying, ‘I’m spiral, and my inside chambers are private. I used to have a slippery mollusk inside me, but
then a dogfish ate her. The air is eddying inside my empty mouth; it’s faster and thinner than water.’”

“Very plausible,” said Bosch, studying him. “And your name is Jayjay?” He said it like Yayay. Jayjay felt
like nobody had ever seen him so clearly before. Slowly Bosch turned his omnivorous gaze upon
Azaroth.

“The harp is most certainly alive,” said Bosch. “Perhaps she belonged to a fallen angel. I’d very much like
to keep her.”

“If you kept her safe in your family, that would be fine,” said Jayjay.

Azaroth sharply cleared his throat, wanting to argue. Jayjay turned and addressed him in rapid English.
“That’s how your aunt gets the harp in the first place!” he hissed. “Think it through. The harp is supposed
to stay here and pass down through the generations so your aunt inherits her.”

“Um—maybe,” said Azaroth confused. “But I took my aunt’s harp away and brought it here. So if I
leave it here and come back empty-handed she’ll—

“It has to happen this way,” insisted Jayjay. “We have to leave the harp. We’re in your past, dog. We
have to make sure all the same things happen.”

“You don’t know my Aunt Gladax,” said Azaroth.

Bosch was looking back and forth from one to the other as they continued talking English.

“Here’s an upside,” said Jayjay. “If you give Bosch the harp, you can ask him for a favor. Ask him to
hire Thuy and me. That way I get a chance to play the Lost Chord and unfurl lazy eight for the Hibrane!
It’s all preordained.”