"Bud Webster - Christus Destitutus" - читать интересную книгу автора (Webster Bud)

healing—how's that for irony, Messenger?—and I went all over the place. I worked in hospitals, rode
with rescue squads, I was even an army corpsman. Hell, I've been here almost twenty years. I just
wanted to help.― He shrugged and the sheets whispered against his thin back. “It's all I ever
wanted to do.

"It seemed to work. People got better, were grateful. They passed along the favors to others, donated
time and money to the shelter, made the world a slightly better place than it might have been otherwise.

"I've lived a lot longer this time, too. And you know the best part, Uriel? Nobody will come along after
I'm dead this time to piss in it so they like the taste. No Crusades in my name, no Inquisition, no
pogroms. No ‘ethnic cleansing'. If He really had wanted to do this thing right, He'd have gathered an
army of ‘unnecessary manifestations’ and set us loose all over the world. But then,― he
continued wearily, “there wouldn't have been a Big Book with His name in it and all those ludicrous
stories."

"You avoid the question."

"I'm under no obligation to answer it. I've paid those dues. Look,― he continued, “He came to me
when I was just a kid. I was smart enough to have attracted some attention with the rabbis, and I asked a
lot of questions that some of them weren't comfortable with. God gave me a vision one night, and
promised me a lot of things—immortality, the ability to really help people, whatever it would take for His
Plan to work.― He shook his head. “I said yes. What did I know? I was just a kid."

"That was then. What of now?"

"Okay. You want reasons?― the old man asked quietly. “Renewal. Recompense. Requital.
Restitution.― With each word his voice grew stronger. “Release. Rectification. Revenge.
Resurrection.― Then, softer: “Redemption."

"Is this proper?"

"You ask stupid questions, Uriel, and insult both our intelligence. Vic!― he called out to the supervisor.
“Ask God about ‘proper', Uriel. Was it ‘proper’ for Him to go off in a sulk because he
didn't like the way His experiment turned out? Because He couldn't handle the enormity of what he'd
done?― He struggled to raise himself. “Job. That poor bastard didn't know how well off he was.
VIC!"

Vic hurried over. “Whataya need, Pete?"

"I gotta piss, man. Can you get me to the can?"

"Yeah, sure.― He helped the old man sit up, then put his arm across the bony shoulders and
half-carried him to the bathroom. The Messenger looked on disinterestedly.

After seating the old man on the toilet, Vic said, “Now, you call me when you need me. Don't try
an’ make it back by y'self, ok?"

"Ok, Vic. I'll call you if I need you.― He smiled wanly as Vic left.

The flow from the old man's bladder was slow and painful; he didn't have to look to know it was tinged