"Aldiss, Brian - Man In His Time" - читать интересную книгу автора (Aldiss Brian W)

Stackpole cleared his throat, smiled, said, "He can so easily
feel cut off you know. It's essential that you of all people
answer his questions, or he will feel cut off."
Always a pace ahead
"The children?" she asked.
"Let's see you and Jack well settled in at home again, say
for a fortnight or so," the administrator said, "before we think
about having the children back to see him."
"That way's better for them and Jack and you, Janet,"
Stackpole said. 'Don't be glib,' she thought; 'consolation I
need, God knows, but that's too facile.' She turned her face
away, fearing it looked too vulnerable these days.
In the corridor, the administrator said, as valediction, "I'm
sure Grandma's spoiling them terribly, Mrs. Westermark, but
worrying won't mend it, as the old saw says."
She smiled at him and walked quickly away, a pace ahead
of Stackpole.
Westermark sat in the back of the car outside the adminis-
trative block. She climbed in beside him. As she did so, he
jerked violently back in his seat.
"Darling, what is it?" she asked. He said nothing.
Stackpole had not emerged from the building, evidently
having a last word with the administrator. Janet took the
moment to lean over and kiss her husband's cheek, aware as
she did so that a phantom wife had already, from his
viewpoint, done so. His response was a phantom to her.
"The countryside looks green," he said. His eyes were
flickering over the grey concrete block opposite.
"Yes," she said.
Stackpole came bustling down the steps, apologising as he
opened the car door, settled in. He let the clutch back too fast
and they shot forward. Janet saw then the reason for Wester-
mark's jerking backwards a short while before. Now the
acceleration caught him again; his body was rolled helplessly
back. As they drove along, he set one hand fiercely on the
side grip, for his sway was not properly counterbalancing the
movement of the car.
Once outside the grounds of the institute, they were in the
country, still under a mid-August day.
His theories
Westermark, by concentrating, could bring himself to con-
form to some of the laws of the time continuum he had left.
When the car he was in climbed up his drive (familiar, yet
strange with the rhododendrons unclipped and no signs of
children) and stopped by the front door, he sat in his seat for
three and a half minutes before venturing to open his door.
Then he climbed out and stood on the gravel, frowning down
at it. Was it as real as ever, as material? Was there a slight
glaze on it?as if something shone through from the interior
of the earth, shone through all things? Or was it that there