"Peter Watts - Nimbus" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watts Peter)

Nimbus1

Peter Watts

She's been out there for hours now, listening to the clouds. I
can see the Radio Shack receiver balanced on her knees, I can see
the headphone wires snaking up and cutting her off from the world.
Or connecting her, I suppose. Jess is hooked into the sky now, in a
way I'll never be. She can hear it talking. The clouds advance,
threatening grey anvils and mountains boiling in ominous slow
motion, and the 'phones fill her head with alien grumbles and
moans.
God she looks like her mother. I catch her profile and for a
moment it is Anne there, gently chiding, of course not, Jess, there
aren't any spirits. They're just clouds. But now I see her face and
eight years have passed in a flash, and I know this can't be Anne.
Anne knew how to smile.
I should go out and join her. It's still safe enough, we've got a
good half hour before the storm hits. Not that it's really going to
hit us; it's just passing through, they say, on its way to some other
target. Still, I wonder if it knows we're in the way. I wonder if it
cares.
I will join her. For once, I will not be a coward. My daughter
sits five meters away in our own back yard, and I am damn well
going to be there for her. It's the least I can do before I go.
I wonder if that will mean anything to her.

* * *

An aftermath, before the enlightenment.
It was as though somebody had turned the city upside down and
shaken it. We waded through a shallow sea of detritus; broken
walls, slabs of torn roofing, toilets and sofas and shattered glass. I
walked behind Anne, Jess bouncing on my shoulders making
happy gurgling noises; just over a year old, not quite talking yet but
plenty old enough for continual astonishment. You could see it in
First published in On Spec, 6(2): 8-17 (1993). Reprinted/translated in 2002
1

Solaris 28(2): 43-56.
Watts 2

her eyes. Every blown newspaper, every bird, every step was a
new experience in wonder.
Also every loaded shotgun. Every trigger-happy national
guardsman. This was a time when people still thought they owned
things. They saw their homes strewn across two city blocks and
the enemy they feared was not the weather, but each other.
Hurricanes were accidents, freaks of nature. The experts were still
blaming volcanoes and the greenhouse effect for everything.