"Aldridge, Ray - The Spine DiversV1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Aldridge Ray)

The fettuccine was excellent, as was the pale green wine, the antipasto, the rumcake, the coffee, the brandy. Clearly the Ripper Room did not specialize in the cuisine of the region, but that might prove to be a mercy later in my visit. I drank a toast to Hiepter Gant Jr., wherever he was. I felt a good deal more cheerful than I had an hour before; I felt ready to explore the village.

When I stopped to pay my bill, Odonni accepted my valuta and spoke in his careful manner. "Was your meal acceptable?"

"Completely," I answered.

"I am pleased."

I had the notion that he wanted to say more, so I lingered a moment beside the desk.

He hesitated, as if weighing the propriety of the situation. "You are Michael Mastine, the traveloguist?"

I was astonished. "You know my work?"

"Yes, indeed. I own several of your chips. 'Life among the Treemen of the Brontoi Archipelago.' 'Nude Rafting on the Speite,' and, of course, your classic, 'Down the Gravity Beam to the Core.'"

The universe is sometimes a bizarrely small place. "I didn't choose the titles," I said.

"I thought as much," he said. "Well, should you require any assistance, or advice, or even a guide to the caverns -- I am certified by the diver's association -- don't hesitate to ask. I would be pleased to help."

"You're very kind," I said.

"Not at all." He walked me to the door. "Take care," he said, as I left the Ripper Room.

Outside night had come to the village, and lights burned in all the alleys. More people were out now, some of them divers, I supposed, or at least they seemed to have the look of Spiners -- dark, remote, dressed in barbaric simplicity. None gave me more than a passing glance. I wondered where they were going, what they planned.

Once, out of curiosity, I followed a scarred young man through several twists and turns, until he suddenly turned and hissed at me, knife in hand. I raised my empty hands peacefully, stepped back. He made a warning gesture with his knife, and sidled away into the darkness.

I wandered about, passing the doors of several bars and drug emporia, the occasional souvenir shop, a whorehouse, a self-service hospital. Most numerous were the various suicide parlors, though these seemed less than prosperous and I saw no customers waiting. Many houses were silent and empty, as if the village had at one time supported a larger population. But from behind some of the doors and courtyard gates came the sound of laughter and music and the clink of glasses. I began to feel a certain lonely melancholy. No one here knew me, except for Odorini the restaurateur. No one would invite me to their parties. As was my invariable custom, I carried no letters of introduction; as much as possible I tried to travel as an ordinary tourist

At the south edge of the village a broken stairway led up to a terrace. I climbed it in the light of the huge rising moon, which seemed to fill half of the eastern horizon, though it was a few days past full.

Several iron benches at the terrace's edge overlooked the village, and I sat, a little tired. After positioning the remote camera to record my silhouette against the moon, I considered my next move. The village was a closed society, not particularly interesting in itself. The architecture was no different from that of a million other stony places. Some of the people were picturesque -- good for a minute or two on the finished chip.

I tried to remember why I had thought the village such a sure thing.

Oh yes, I thought. The divers and their drug.

I learned about the divers and their drug from my agent, Dalrimple Cleame.

"You're broke," he told me one day.

"Really," I said weakly.

"Really. But I can get you one more shot, if you have the gonads to try again."

"Details?" I asked, with justifiable suspicion.

"Marginal publisher . . . an outfit called Remembrances Inc., chartered out of Firenza. Ever heard of it? Me neither. Chintzy expense account, small advance, limited distribution. But it'll keep you in the biz, and who knows? Might do well enough to bring you back from the dead. Stranger things have happened."