"Gardner Dozois - Strangers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dozois Gardner)

celebration.
It took about another half-hour for the bulk of the remaining crowd to
filter down into the place of ceremony. In that time, the sound of the
Al├аntene grew from a murmur, a whisper, to a vast rhythmical sea-surge
that filled the night, that filled the blood, and brain, and bowels, until
Farber found that he was breathing in time to the huge slow booming of
the drums and the deep-throated susurrus of the chant, and he suspected
that his heart was also beating in rhythm. Janet LaCorte said it gave her a
headache. Sometimes the wind would bring them a snatch of faster
musicтАФcrystalline, ringing and staccatoтАФthat was being played as
counterpoint to the giant beating of the World-Heart. There was no other
sound, except the whisper and scuff of a million feet over tile, the creak of
wagon wheels, and the occasional plaintive lowing of the snake-things. The
Cian around them did not speak at all. Brody was off on somethingтАФlike
many of the Earthmen, he was of the opinion that the Modes, the native
ceremonies, were more enjoyable if you went to them stonedтАФand he was
giggling constantly now, his eyes rolling from one object to another, never
quite focusing on anything. Farber had been quarreling bitterly with
Kathy Gibbs for the last fifteen minutes over some trivial matter, their
voices growing ever louder and more heated, and as they reached the
bottom of the slope, Farber, stung by some final gibe of Kathy's, broke
away and whirled fiercely to face her.
"You fucking bitch," he said. He had gone pale, and he looked as if he
was going to hit her.
Kathy laughed in his face. She was flushed and bright-eyed from the
argument, but she seemed in no way perturbed by his rage. "You're no fun
at all tonight, are you?" she said. Some of her hair had become plastered
to her forehead with sweat, and Farber could see her breasts clearly
through the semitransparent blouse; her nipples were hard against the
fabric. A sudden rush of desire mixed with his anger, confusing him. His
mouth worked on words, but she laughed at him again, and they died in
his throat. She had read him well enough. "See you later, sweetheart," she
said, brushing the hair out of her eyes, giving him a knowing, cutting
smile. "Here, about midnight. All right?" He said nothing. She looked at
him with hard, taunting eyes, smiled again, and walked quickly away,
mingling with the crowd. She vanished from sight within seconds. Farber
stared after her, his fists balled impotently, his jaw tight.
Brody giggled. He had listened openly to the whole exchange, without
embarrassment, apparently getting a kick out of it. He slapped Farber on
the shoulder. "Fuck her," he said, in a voice that was a dreamy parody of
hearty man-to-man comradery. "Fuck 'em all, I always say. There're
millions of cunts in the world. Always another one along in a minute."
"Why don't you mind your own goddam business?" Farber snapped.
"Fuck you too, Jack," Brody said pleasantly, without any hint of rancor.
He was almost jovial about it. He giggled abruptly, seeming to startle
himself, as if it had popped out before he was ready for it. He squinted at
Farber. "You'll find out," he said, with listless, languid wisdom. Then he
said, "Oh my!" plaintively, and tracked to follow something moving down
on the beach. And he smiled and smiled.
The other Earthmen had been hanging back while the fight went on;