"Keith Brooke - Solo" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brooke Keith)

he was a scientist, although he wears a uniform much like the others.
Now, the truck stops, its engine falls quiet. I step outside into the
slush. Spotlights glare down from above so that the only shadows are those
immediately below the neatly parked vehicles.
We go inside.
Instead of heading up the stairs to where they held me before, I am shown
into a small room, an office, perhaps. The men speak to me, but naturally
I do not comprehend their meaning.
The scientist points at a chair. I sit and look up, framing the man with
the eyecam.
The silence is awkward but there is little to do about that.
Eventually the door opens again. A man comes in. He is as ugly as all the
others, but he does not wear a uniform, so I assume he is important. He is
a thin man, with staring eyes. There is something about his manner that
catches my attention. Something different. I view him steadily, track him
as he walks across, leans with his buttocks on the edge of a desk.
Words are exchanged and the scientist and the guards leave the room. This
new man is either confident or foolish, or both.
"Your signal is being blocked," he says.
I had suspected as much, but the broadcast had been my only chance.
I stop myself, stare at the strange man. I had understood his words.
He smiles, but it is not really a smile, merely a well-rehearsed
expression. "I should have let them shoot you," he says. Then he opens his
arms wide, accepts me into his embrace. I should have realised I was not
alone in this place. I start to cry, with all the pent-up fears and
traumas of the past two days. There is so much I want to ask but, most of
all, I wonder, How long have we been here?

й Keith Brooke 1996, 1997
This story appeared in the first issue of Mike Cobley's magazine Mind Maps
in July 1996.