"George Alec Effinger - Bird of Time" - читать интересную книгу автора (Effinger George Alec)

Hartstein shook his head.
тАЬThen just shut up and hold still.тАЭ
The transmission screen itself wasn't very impressive.
Hartstein had heard about it since childhood, had even seen
pictures of it, yet he had a mental image that included more
adventure and excitement than did the real thing. He waited
on a worn green-painted bench for twenty minutes while a
couple of dozen other people ducked through on their way to
various eras. Some of the destinations were easy to guess,
because of the travelersтАЩ costumes: one fat, bald man in the
October of his years wore the skins of some mottled animal
and carried a crude stone hatchet; two teenage girls traveling
together wore Agency-issue outfits that disguised them as
flower children of the 1960s; a tall, thin man with a loud voice
and a permanent sneer wore the toga of a Roman senator. It
gave Hartstein a feeling of being backstage at the community
15
 The Bird of Time
by George Alec Effinger


theater as he glanced around the waiting room and
catalogued the cultures and centuries represented by the
panorama of styles. And, he reminded himself, they all came
from plastic-wrapped packages in the Agency warehouse. The
most complex courtier's costume must have seen constant
use, worn and cleaned and stored away again like a rented
dinner jacket after prom night.
тАЬMr. Hartstein?тАЭ called a woman. He got up and went to
the screen. тАЬMr. Hartstein? Your voucher, please. Thank you.
Okay, we're going to put you through to Alexandria now. You
will arrive early in the morning of May 15, 48 B.C., a full year
before the Library will burn during Julius Caesar's siege of the
city. Are you ready?тАЭ
Hartstein swallowed. He felt very nervous. His stomach
was sending him sterner messages than ever. тАЬI feel like a
fool, dressed like this,тАЭ he said.
The Agent had probably heard that sentiment many times.
She did not reply. She grasped him by the arm and led him to
the flickering screen. Hartstein saw that here, too, there was
a framed sentiment:


Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch'entrate.
тАФDante Alighieri


He couldn't read Italian, but his high school Latin enabled
him to recognize one word; speranza meant either тАЬhopeтАЭ or
тАЬbreath,тАЭ but he couldn't remember which.