"Campbell, Ramsey - The Parasite 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Campbell Ramsey)

For a moment, gazing at the space where the Chinaman should be, she felt dizzy. It looked like a dark blotch in the air, a gap into which she was falling. If that was a threat of migraine, she had never felt like it before. She closed her eyes for a while, then she headed for the kitchen. For some reason she felt that it would be not at all a good idea to lie down.

Seven

Everyone wanted to meet Rose, especially Colin. His bronzed head, topped with sun-bleached hair like plush, was set firmly on a strong neck. His shirt was white as marble. His amazingly blue eyes - yes, he looked like a travel agent's poster, Rose mocked herself impatiently. Still, he was clearly delighted to meet her and Bill and to introduce them to everyone there.

The Hays' house resembled an enormous radio, a battle of overlapping wavebands: stock market reports, discussions of mental research, what was wrong with the country, how to rationalize the political system, a song or two, amateur comedians who laughed while telling jokes, a trait which Bill couldn't bear. Tables were crowded with bottles, mounds of sausage rolls like dormant caterpillars, plates of stuffed eggs which Rose had provided to save Gladys from panicking.

Gladys was clutching a soft drink and had cornered Bill. Hilary, his mature student, had been trapped by Frank Sherratt, owner of the Vision group of cinemas, who wore his Lancashire accent as the badge of a selfmade man. `Can you tell me why I have to go all the way to London to see so many films?' she had made the mistake of asking. Her boyfriend Des was arguing with Colin, and Rose was afraid that the scene might turn ugly.

Des had looked aggressively out of place at once. He'd sauntered in, thumbs in his blue denim pockets, surveying the party liked a bar-room brawler choosing a victim. `I'll tell you what apartheid is,' he was snarling now. `A jackboot stamping on a black face, that's apartheid.'

If second-hand Orwell was all he could muster, perhaps Rose needn't worry. Besides, people were being introduced to her: a bank manager, cigar protruding from his mouth like a gargoyle's rusty spout; a weary headmaster; a magistrate chained with necklaces, manacled with bracelets; a newspaper editor, whose face looked too young for his piercing dispassionate eyes.

`Interesting that you should use that image.' Colin touched his eyebrow, a tiny ironic salute. All his movements were elegantly terse. `I've often felt that South Africa has become the scapegoat of the world, a convenient distraction from one's own shortcomings - just as the Jews were the scapegoats of National Socialism. In particular your unions use South Africa to gain themselves power under the guise of taking a moral stand.'

`I'm in a union,' Des said ominously. `At Ford's car plant.'

`Why, yes, your plans are quite famous. You and your cronies care for the English system of government as little as South Africa's.'

`What fucking system? The one that robs the workers who earn the money so that it can subsidize fascist governments?' He was brandishing a bottle of Scotch, which he had almost emptied by himself. `I'll tell you what I want to see, mister. The blacks will blow the lid off your country any day - I want to see the workers seize power here. Then maybe we can start to work for a world that's run by the people.'

`And you would dance in the ruins. But would you rejoice in the bloodshed? Yes, I suspect you might.' Colin's sudden anger faded quickly. `Have you any idea of the aims of apartheid? Evolution must be given time to work - it must be engineered, if necessary. Some people are capable of evolutionary leaps, but not the blacks. Many of them refuse even to be educated to white standards.'

`That's the same fucking system as here. Breed a working class and make sure they don't get too ambitious. Build them shithouses to live in, split up the families and the communities, keep their wages down, tell them they aren't worth educating - '

Gladys had come in and was listening nervously. Rose felt responsible, even though she and Bill hadn't known that their invitation to Hilary would include Des. She moved away from a group of young people in expensive casual clothes who wanted to tell her their experiences in India, Africa, Tibet. Looking straight at Des, she said 'Colin, could I speak to you alone?'

Des scowled at her and staggered back, sucking his bottle. `Yes, certainly,' Colin said as she led him through the group of young explorers, towards the drinks. `What about?ff

'Oh, I just wanted to shut him up. I do apologize for him.'

`Now really, that's not good enough.' His smite was wide but brief. `I was quite enjoying him. Now that you've swept me away, you must find a topic to compensate:'

`You were talking about evolutionary leaps.' It was all she could think of except South Africa. `Of course they aren't the same thing, but a friend of mine has some ideas about heightened perceptions. I don't know what you'd think of them.'

`Even if they aren't the same thing, you can i nave one without the other.'

He seemed so interested that she told him all Diana's ideas: LSD, migraine, even stances as a trigger for new perceptions. `I should think you disapprove of LSD,' she said.

`As a tool it has its uses. But what you say about seances is extremely interesting. I should like to meet your friend.'

`You'd have to go to New York

'Ali, well.' His smile grew wider. `Never mind.'

All at once, as though it were a musical theme making its way through an orchestra, everyone seemed to be talking about stances. The young explorers had overheard Rose and were spreading the word like an infection - though why should she think of it in those terms? Now it had reached Hilary, who was muttering at Des. `A seance?' she said loudly, eager for a diversion. `That would be fun.'

`It would, wouldn't it?' Bill said, smiling at Rose. Everyone seemed enthusiastic but Gladys, who demanded nervously, `Why do you want to do that?'