"Greg Egan - Neighbourhood Watch" - читать интересную книгу автора (Egan Greg)

Neighbourhood WatchNeighbourhood Watch by Greg Egan тАЬNeighbourhood WatchтАЭ |
тАЬScatter My AshesтАЭ | тАЬMind VampiresтАЭ Horror Stories Back to home page |
Site Map | Framed Site Map My retainers keep me on ice. Dry ice. It slows
my metabolism, takes the edge off my appetite, slightly. I lie, bound with
heavy chains, between two great slabs of it, naked and sweating, trying to
sleep through the torment of a summer's day. They've given me the local
fall-out shelter, the very deepest room they could find, as I requested. Yet
my senses move easily through the earth and to the surface, out across the
lazy, warm suburbs, restless emissaries skimming the sun-soaked streets. If I
could rein them in I would, but the instinct that drives them is a force unto
itself, a necessary consequence of what I am and the reason I was brought
into being. Being, I have discovered, has certain disadvantages. I intend
seeking compensation, just as soon as the time is right. In the dazzling,
clear mornings, in the brilliant, cloudless afternoons, children play in the
park, barely half a mile from me. They know I've arrived; part of me comes
from each one of their nightmares, and each of their nightmares comes partly
from me. It's day time now, though, so under safe blue skies they taunt me
with foolish rhymes, mock me with crude imitations, tell each other tales of
me which take them almost to the edge of hysterical fear, only to back away,
to break free with sudden careless laughter. Oh, their laughter! I could put
an end to it so quickly тАж тАЬOh yeah?тАЭ David is nine, he's their leader. He
pulls an ugly face in my direction. тАЬGreat tough monster! Sure.тАЭ I respond
instinctively: I reach out, straining, and a furrow forms in the grass,
snakes towards his bare feet. Nearly. My burning skin hollows the ice beneath
me. Nearly. David watches the ground, unimpressed, arms folded, sneering.
Nearly! But the contract, one flimsy page on the bottom shelf of the Mayor's
grey safe, speaks the final word: No. No loophole, no argument, no
uncertainty, no imprecision. I withdraw, there is nothing else I can do. This
is the source of my agony: all around me is living flesh, flesh that by
nature I could joyfully devour in an endless, frantic, ecstatic feast, but I
am bound by my signature in blood to take only the smallest pittance, and
only in the dead of night. For now. Well, never mind, David. Be patient. All
good things take time, my friend. тАЬNo fucking friend of mine!тАЭ he says, and
spits into the furrow. His brother sneaks up from behind and, with a loud
shout, grabs him. They roar at each other, baring their teeth, arms spread
wide, fingers curled into imitation claws. I must watch this, impassive. Sand
trickles in to fill the useless furrow. I force the tense muscles of my
shoulders and back to relax, chanting: be patient, be patient. Only at
night, says the contract. After eleven, to be precise. Decent people are not
out after eleven, and decent people should not have to witness what I
do. Andrews is seventeen, and bored. Andrew, I understand. This suburb is a
hole, you have my deepest sympathies. What do they expect you to do around
here? On a warm night like this a young man can grow restless. I know; your
dreams, too, shaped me slightly (my principal creators did not expect that).
You need adventure. So keep your eyes open, Andrew, there are opportunities
everywhere. The sign on the chemist's window says no money, no drugs, but you
are no fool. The back window's frame is rotting, the nails are loose, it
falls apart in your hands. Like cake. Must be your lucky night, tonight. The
cash drawer's empty (oh shit!) and you can forget about that safe, but a big,
glass candy jar of valium beats a handful of Swiss health bars, doesn't it?