"Effinger, George Alec - Maureen Birnbaum 03 - Maureen Birnbaum at the Looming Awfulness" - читать интересную книгу автора (Effinger George Alec)

About a quarter of an hour later, a very old, very fragile book came clown a
dumbwaiter for us. It was so ancient, it could've been like the first rough
draft of the Old Testament, you know? Rod treated it with caution and great
respect, and carried it over to a table where we could browse through its mystic
text.

"This is an English translation of the Necronomicon," Rod goes, "hand-copied
from Dr. John Dee's original manuscript sometime in the last two or three
centuries. It is extremely rare, and literally priceless in value. It's a very
great honor to be allowed to view this book."

"Well," I go, "I'm suitably impressed."

"This is also the source of the photocopied drawings and inscriptions that I've
received," he goes. He turned a few pages. "Hello! What's this?"

Another photocopy had been inserted between two of the book's crumbling pages.
It said, "R.M." -- that must have stood for "Rod Marquand," I guessed- and then
some numbers. "What does it mean?" I go.

"If I'm correct, this is a certain longitude and latitude. We'll need to consult
an accurate atlas next."

"Is it a warning?" I go. "Or a challenge?"

Rod gazed at me steadily. "Perhaps both," he goes. He didn't show the least hint
of fear.

A few minutes later, we'd established the location indicated on the photocopy.
The city of New Haven, Connecticut is hemmed in by two large ridges, West Rock
and East Rock. Both are easily climbed, with roads twisting back and forth from
their bases to their summits. They make for pleasant hiking in the spring and
fall.

The intersection of longitude and latitude fell right at the topmost point of
East Rock. "There," Rod goes, stabbing his finger down on the map, "that's where
we'll find It. And, I hope, my roommate, Sandy."

Rod had a bicycle and he borrowed another for me, and together we pedaled toward
our grim destination. I was completely lost, because I didn't know New Haven
very well beyond the immediate environs of the university. It was too early in
the season for the journey to be picturesque. No flowers bloomed, and the oaks
and elms loomed above us naked and black in their leaflessness.

It was good warrior-woman exercise, though, and I could feel the burn in my
mighty thews as I pushed the Italian ten-speed up the long slope of East Rock.
I've found that just as everyone in the universe miraculously speaks English,
and that I miraculously never seem to age, also miraculously I rarely put on too
much weight. Oh, there'll be a pound or two now and then around the holidays or
after some wanton barbarian feast, but my active life has toned me up much