"Ian Watson & Roberto Quaglia - Beloved Vampire of the Blood Comet" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watson Ian)

“That’s entirely possible. It’s beautiful to think of the vastness of the sidereal spaces ploughed by
thousands of blood comets like spatial vessels. Outer space is the natural environment for a vampire, us
being dead and not needing air or tourist comfort, and cosmic darkness protects us from the deadly rays
of suns. Imagine an ancient primitive vampire form of life! Maybe proto-vampires originally came to Earth
on a blood comet millions or even billions of years ago, and the panspermia theory of the propagation of
life though the universe is true – for vampire beings, which have moved through the universe inside blood
comets since forever. Life on every populated planet could derive from this proto-vampire form of life,
and successive mutations would create the first and little known bifurcation of evolution: superior vampire
life in one direction and inferior non-vampire life in the other. The creation of the banal mortal form of life
of non-vampires is needed by nature for its trivial tragedies, and even more for producing all the
necessary blood which vampires need. Vampires cannot drink the blood of other dead and immortal
beings. A vampire’s food source must be alive and mortal.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Nature loves complications, my dear. Look at the tail of a peacock.”

It was time for more orgasms, since my menstruation was at its peak and Silviu wouldn’t miss a drop,
which typically results in more and more pleasure for me – and who was I to refuse that? If only I could
have permanent menstruation – I’d often thought – I’d be the happiest of the women, since I would be
licked almost incessantly by a competent male like Silviu, with hundreds of years of haematocunnilingual
experience!

Because Silviu had waited a whole year (which was nothing to a vampire) before revealing something as
momentous as his journey to the Moon, reluctantly I decided that his account must be no more than a
wonderful invention to enchant me. But then, three months later —




In the vast bedroom of the palazzo we had a plasma-screen TV because Silviu liked to watch operas,
particularly ones by Mozart. Early one night, a news flash interrupted The Marriage of Figaro
performed at Venice’s own La Fenice. On the other side of the Atlantic, where it was afternoon, an
unidentified spacecraft was heading for Florida—just as American astronauts were preparing to board
the re-repaired space shuttle, watched by President Bush himself. Space experts and Homeland Security
thought the intruder was an alien spacecraft. The launch was put on hold. George Bush decided not to
leave hastily in Air Force One because this might be ‘a moment of destiny.’

We watched the ‘alien’ spaceship descend slowly, as if by antigravity, while American fighter jets circled.
Cameras zoomed – and we saw a ship made of medieval armour, pitted by micrometeorites.

“It’s the return of Dracula,” said Silviu, almost in awe.

I spoke without thinking: “No, my love, The Return of Dracula’s on Channel Three.” Blushing, I asked
more sensibly, “How could he be away for so long?”

“For him, my pigeon, much less time will have passed because of time dilation due to Faster Than
Levitation travel.”
The ship of Gothic armour touched the ground quite close to the shuttle launch pad, near where the seven