"Gardner Dozois & Michael Swanwick - Ancestral Voices" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dozois Gardner)

heard himself clumping about overhead, and made a face. тАЬCould you warm this
thing ├║p for me?тАЭ
Wordlessly, she took the cup from him, put it into the microwave, and
switched the device on.
тАЬHey, wait a minute!тАЭ Candy looked up suddenly. тАЬHow deep did you say it
was out there?тАЭ She went to the window and pushed the curtain aside. тАЬOh, no!тАЭ she
groaned. тАЬHow am I going to get home through all that?тАЭ
тАЬThe plows will be by when the snow stops,тАЭ Mrs. Kingsley said. тАЬBut this
isnтАЩt a primary route, and while itтАЩs falling theyтАЩre going to keep most of their
machines out on the Interstate.тАЭ
 тАЬMy mom is going to have a cow! WhereтАЩs the telephone?тАЭ
тАЬIn the hallway,тАЭ Desmond said, and she hurried off without even pausing to
ask permission.
A motion in the corner of her eye caught Alma KingsleyтАЩs attention then, and
she suddenly remembered the coffee in the microwave. Brown liquid was bulging
ominously over the cupтАЩs lip. Hurriedly she cut off the device, and it subsided. The
cup was nice and warm; half the flavor was boiled out, but no need to mention that.
She set it down in front of Desmond.
The young woman returned, throwing herself down into the chair with a kind
of heavy despair. тАЬI canтАЩt get through. ThereтАЩs this static and a kind of whooping
noise, and nothing goes through.тАЭ
тАЬMore than likely something wrong at the switching facilities,тАЭ Mrs. Kingsley
said. тАЬThe phone service hereтАЩs never been much to brag about.тАЭ
Candy worried a pack of cigarettes and a disposable lighter out of her disco
bag and accusingly said, тАЬWell, my mother is going to have a cow.тАЭ
Mrs. Kingsley personally thought that the girlтАЩs motherтАЩs outrage was a day
late and a dollar short, but she kept her opinion to herself. Aloud, she said, тАЬNo, my
dear, I am afraid that I do not allow smoking at the breakfast table.тАЭ
тАЬHah?тАЭ Candy looked down stupidly, lit the cigarette, and then hastily
removed it from her mouth. тАЬOhтАФyeah, sure.тАЭ She made as if to stub out the
cigarette on her plate. Mrs. Kingsley hastily reached into the cupboards for an
ashtray.
тАЬHere.тАЭ She thrust it at the young woman. It was ironic, the tyranny that
smokers exercised over their betters. She herself had never picked up the disgusting
habit, and yet had of necessity, over the years, acquired any number of ashtrays to
accommodate friends and guests. тАЬYou can smoke in the hallway,тАЭ she said.
тАЬThough it would be nice if you were to go outside whenтАФтАЭ
But an angry glance from Desmond told her that she had gone too far. тАЬWell,
that would be unreasonable, of course.тАЭ
тАЬDamn straight it would,тАЭ Desmond muttered. He was at the kitchen radio
now, fiddling with it. It emitted an earsplitting, see-sawing howl of static, like a dying
banshee. Wincing, he turned the knob from one end of the dial to the other, finding
no stations, then grimaced and turned the radio off. He started to say тАЬShit!тАЭ, cast a
quick look at his daughter, thought better of it, and settled for an exasperated
тАЬDamn!тАЭ He came back to the table. тАЬIтАЩd hoped to catch the news.тАЭ
тАЬWar, and portents of war,тАЭ Mrs. Kingsley said sourly.
Desmond grinned offensively at her. тАЬHey, sounds good to me!тАЭ he said.
тАЬThat means I donтАЩt have to worry about being out of work, right?тАЭ He knew that
she disapproved of his work for military contractorsтАФтАЭwar workтАЭ sheтАЩd called it
bitterly once, in a monumental argument a few months after StephanieтАЩs death,