"John DeChancie - Skyway 2 - Red Limit Freeway" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dechancie John)

system could have such. It led, so the stories said, to the beginning of the universe. Not to the end, mind
you, in either sense-not the physical limit of the universe, or its final destiny, but to the beginning.
When I heard that (from Jerry Spacks, an old friend and former member of the Starriggers Guild), I
asked if there was a good motel there.
The beginning of the universe. Bang.
Pack your sunglasses. And bring plenty of suntan lotion. That primeval fireball can bum you right through
your pretty new beach outfit.
As farfetched as it all was, I had every reason-now-to believe it. True, I had only Darla's word that she
had met me before-a meeting I did not remember-but I also was now in possession of a very strange
object, the nature of which was not clear even to Darla, who had given it to me. I had the Black Cube.
That was all it was, a palm-sized cube, black as the devil's heart, origin and purpose unknown. It might
be the Roadmap, or it might not be.
There was other evidence. Back on Goliath, I had made good my escape from the Colonial Militia with
the very timely help of what could only have been my doppelganger, my paradoxical self. I was fairly sure
of that. I had seen him ... me. True, a tiny wisp of doubt still clung to that image of my own face hovering
above me as I lay in my cell, being administered the antidote to the effects of the Reticulan dream wand...
I sat up in my seat. Where did my double get the dream wand he had used to knock out everybody at
the Militia station? I opened the glove box under the dash. There it was, a shiny green shaft with a bright
metal ring around one end.
Of course. That's how "he" got it. I have it now! I closed the box. Jesus, it was spooky.
Maybe there was no doubt after all. "Hooray!"
A sign beside the road.

6KM TO THE
FRUMIOUS BANDERSNATCH!
EATS!
GET DRUNK!
WE MAIL YOU HOME, KEEP YOUR KEY
ROOMS, NOT TOO SORDID
TURN OFF SKYWAY IKM
FOLLOW RT. 22 EAST

"Oh, God, a bed," Susan said dreamily.
"The sign's in English," John said. "Oh, here's the Inter system one. Odd, it's not as friendly in 'System."
"Frumious Bandersnatch," Roland muttered.
"Route 22" (I nearly missed it, even going at a crawl) was a dirt trail which intersected the Skyway, then
meandered off into the forest. I turned off and followed it, bumping over ? mound and rut, stone and
fallen log, for what seemed like 320km with no bandersnatchi evident. Nothing was evident but a kind of
hokey enchanted forest scene, as in the animated epics you see in museum mopix programs. Except of
course
there was nothing ersatz about it; this was the real, otherworldly thing. Out there was the demesne of
elves, dryads, unicorns, and nymphs-or their funny-looking alien counter-parts, and they'd be doubly
eldritch for that.
We came upon it suddenly. It was a big, rambling threestory building slapped together out of immense
logs and raw ~ board lumber, roofed over with half a dozen gables, a spacious canopied porch going all
the way around, lots of small windows on the upper floors, all of it anchored by four or five huge stone
chimneys coughing thin black smoke. There was a big parking lot hacked out of the forest on three sides,
crammed with unusual off-road vehicles.
All in all, it had a great deal of charm. Right then, though, a holey tent with no ground cloth would've
looked like home. Smells of grilled food were in the air-I had been about to check instruments for air