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

actually two huge windows, divided horizontally by the building's second
story. It was purely a secular establishment, and had no real connection
with the Al├аntene, or with any of the Cian Modes, although it had been
builtтАФby the CianтАФbecause of them. Here you could come in out of the
weatherтАФand there were Modes that were carried out in the middle of
blizzards, or in the broiling, near-fatal heat of high summerтАФand watch
the ceremonies through glass for a while; here you could relax on loungers
and hammocks and refresh yourself with the variety of essences, liqueurs
and foods that were on sale. The Modes had been around for a very long
time, and the Cian were well aware of their entertainment value, and the
possibilities for commercial profit that were created thereby. And had
been so aware for hundreds of years, long before the first outworlder had
arrived. It was not a matter of the Modes being exploited by crass aliens;
the Cian exploited them themselves, cheerfully, and no one seemed to be
upset by it. And yet there was a depth of solemn belief, a feeling of pure
religiosity to the Modes that had died out of Terra generations ago. It was
a point of contention among the Earthmen: whether the Modes were
religion, or were considered by the urban Cian to be merely a body of
quaint and charming tradition.
Your opinion on this, Farber now believed, would be determined by
where you stood during the Mode. Here in Ocean House, surrounded by
Cian who were relaxing and watching the show through the huge
window-walls, or chatting with their friends, or strolling on the portico, or
devouring essences and batter-fried blackfish, as easy and sophisticated as
any crowd of city people anywhere, one would certainly opt for tradition.
Down on the beach, packed in with the indefatigable mass of swaying,
stamping, groaning devotees, you would come to quite a different
conclusion. But there were not two separate groups of Cian; they mingled
indiscriminatelyтАФoften the chefs and concessionaires of Ocean
House/River House would come down to take part in the Mode after their
work shift, and some of the sweating, earnest spectators would eventually
drift up to the big building for rest and essences. It was a dichotomy that
no Earth-man understood, and now Farber intuited dimly that it was only
the tip of an iceberg.
He purchased a fugeтАФa gelatin concoction something like across
between chocolate pudding and raw jellyfishтАФfrom a concessionaire, and
strolled slowly through the corridors of Ocean House. Most of his terror
had passed, leaving him sad and contemplative. He made his way up to
the second story, which had a better overview of the beach. The lighting
here was dim and diffuse, and Farber felt as if he was walking in a glass
tunnel under the sea. He drifted over to the window-wall. The Al├аntene
glittered far below, the tiny figures swaying and whirling, a masque
performed by animate, passionate dolls. Its flaring light struck odd
reticulations from the vaulted ceiling of Ocean House, sent hunched
shadows capering wildly across the stone floor. After a while, Farber
became aware that someone was there with him, watching the fire and the
night. The other had been there all along, hidden in the gloom at the
bottom of a pillar, silent as a shadow, with only its presence to grow
patient and gradual in Farber's mind, until at last he must turn his head
to look, not knowing why he did. He squinted. It was a woman. She felt his