"Eric Brown - Pithecanthropus Blues" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brown Eric)

standards. I was four-feet-nothing of fat hairy ape - and I stank. I
teetered on the verge of slumber and pondered my misfortune.
Dr Lassiter had told me that, on the occasion of my fifth transference, I
would remain here... stranded for good! I tried to look on the bright side
and work out the advantages of living in this prehistoric era. But as far
as I could see there were none. In fact, of all the possible times in
Earth's past to which I might have found myself transported, this one had
to be the most hellish. The environment was totally alien to me; the
citizens of this time little better than animals - and of all my ancestors
I had had the mischance to find as my exchange partner, fate had deposited
me in the overweight body of a geriatric cripple.
I was philosophising thus in the sultry dawn of planet Earth when I was
visited by a member of the opposite sex. She squatted before me and bared
her fangs in what might have been an amorous smile. She had teeth like
tombstones, bad breath and dugs that drooped to her knees. She grunted at
me, and I knew that this was the prehistoric equivalent of a pick-up. She
turned on all fours and presented herself, and the prospect did not
appeal. I realised, then, that this might be the fateful encounter that
produced the genetic line that would culminate, in the year 2030, in the
birth on Venus of one Chester Carnegie. Perhaps, if I abstained, I might
never be born. All the more reason for chastity, I thought. I grunted that
I had migraine. The female became angry - but I was saved her wrath by a
cry from across the clearing, and my partner-who-almost-was scampered off.
The tribe had gathered and were staring at the setting sun. As the fiery
ball touched the rim of the horizon, the tribe prostrated themselves on
the ground in obvious obeisance. I stared, amazed. Sun worshippers, yet!
Minutes later, as the sun disappeared and pulled night in its wake, I was
further amazed when each member of the tribe approached me, genuflected
and deposited at my feet some small gift or token: clubs of wood, nuts and
berries, gobbets of meat and small rodents. They retreated across the
clearing and watched me as I regarded the offerings. I went through the
limited knowledge of this era I had picked up from Gna in the transfer,
but came up with nothing that might explain this.
I was cautiously sorting through the revolting oddments and wondering how
to respond - the tribe was still watching me intently - when I was saved
by the familiar sensation of approaching oblivion. Seconds later I blacked
out and returned to my own time.

28th May, 2060.
Proxmire Industrial Solar Satellite.
As this was my penultimate day in civilised times I decided to give work a
miss. Besides which, I had influenza. I had come to my senses the night
before in the industrial sector - wet, freezing, and, as always, stark
naked. Only the late hour prevented my being seen as I sprinted like a
madman back to the cubby-stack.
I remained in my cubby all day and attempted to reconcile myself to my
fate. I made a printout of the daily newsheet, but the current events only
made me aware of what I was leaving. There had been another murder on the
satellite; the authorities had tagged every boosted lion, tiger and
panther who had left the bigships at the dock. On Earth, food riots had