"Walter Jon Williams - Witness" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Walter John)

Witness




Witness

Walter Jon Williams


Author's Note: "Witness" is a contribution to the Wild Cards shared-world series, but it stands largely
on its own. In order to understand its premise, only a few things need to be explained. An alien, known
on Earth as Dr. Tachyon, developed the gene-warping wild card virus, which killed most of its victims
horribly, which mutilated most of the survivors, and which, to a lucky few, granted genuine
superpowers. In an alternate 1946, Jetboy, a famous World War II ace, died in an unsuccessful attempt
to prevent terrorists from detonating a wild card bomb over Manhattan. The story begins only a few
minutes after Jetboy's death, as viral spores begin to rain on the city.

The part of the story I didn't make up consists of the HUAC persecutions of the late --40s and '50s. A
depressing feature of this story was hearing from young (and a few not-so-young) readers who assume
that I invented the McCarthy Period for the purposes of this alternate-worlds story. I can only hope that
this disbelief is a measure of how far we've come since the days of HUAC, that it really can't happen
again, rather than an indication of the political naiveté that allowed it all to occur in the first place.

W.J.W.

****

When Jetboy died I was watching a matinee of The Jolson Story. I wanted to see Larry Parks's
performance, which everyone said was so remarkable. I studied it carefully and made mental notes.

Young actors do things like that.

The picture ended, but I was feeling comfortable and had no plans for the next few hours, and I wanted
to see Larry Parks again. I watched the movie a second time. Halfway through, I fell asleep, and when I
woke the titles were scrolling up. I was alone in the theater.

When I stepped into the lobby the usherettes were gone and the doors were locked. They'd run for it and
forgotten to tell the projectionist. I let myself out into a bright, pleasant autumn afternoon and saw that
Second Avenue was empty.

Second Avenue is never empty.

The newsstands were closed. The few cars I could see were parked. The theater marquee had been

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 Witness

turned off. I could hear angry auto horns some distance off, and over it the rumble of high-powered
airplane engines. There was a bad smell from somewhere.