"Greg Egan - Oceanic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Egan Greg)

the stars. When I woke in the morning and looked into my heart, She was there without fail,
offering me strength and guidance. When I lay in bed at night, I feared nothing, because I knew
She was watching over me. Before my Drowning, I'd been unsure of my faith, but now I'd never again
be able to doubt that the Daughter of God had become flesh, and died, and conquered Death, because
of Her great love for us.
It was all true, but even as I said these things I couldn't get Daniel's sarcastic words out
of my mind. I glanced over at the row where I'd been sitting, at the people I'd traveled with.
What did I have in common with them, really? Rachel and Bartholomew were married. Bartholomew and
Daniel had studied together, and still played in the same dive-ball team. Daniel and Agnes were
probably in love. And Daniel was my brother ... but the only difference that seemed to make was
the fact that he could belittle me far more efficiently than any stranger.
In the open prayer that followed, I paid no attention to the problems and blessings people
were sharing with the group. I tried silently calling on Beatrice to dissolve the knot of anger in
my heart. But I couldn't do it; I'd turned too far away from Her.
When the meeting was over, and people started moving into the adjoining room to talk for a
while, I hung back. When the others were out of sight I ducked into the corridor, and headed
straight for the launch.
Daniel could get a ride home with his friends; it wasn't far out of their way. I'd wait a
short distance from the boat until he caught up; if my parents saw me arrive on my own I'd be in
trouble. Daniel would be angry, of course, but he wouldn't betray me.
Once I'd freed the launch from its dock, it knew exactly where to go: around the canal, back
to the tunnel, out into the open sea. As I sped across the calm, dark water, I felt the presence
of Beatrice returning, which seemed like a sign that She understood that I'd had to get away.
I leaned over and dipped my hand in the water, feeling the current the launch was generating
by shuffling ions in and out of the cells of its skin. The outer hull glowed a phosphorescent
blue, more to warn other vessels than to light the way. In the time of Beatrice, one of her
followers had sat in the Immaterial City and designed this creature from scratch. It gave me a
kind of vertigo, just imagining the things the Angels had known. I wasn't sure why so much of it
had been lost, but I wanted to rediscover it all. Even the Deep Church taught that there was
nothing wrong with that, so long as we didn't use it to try to become immortal again.
The monastery shrank to a blur of light on the horizon, and there was no other beacon visible
on the water, but I could read the stars, and sense the field lines, so I knew the launch was
heading in the right direction.
When I noticed a blue speck in the distance, it was clear that it wasn't Daniel and the
others chasing after me; it was coming from the wrong direction. As I watched the launch drawing
nearer I grew anxious; if this was someone I knew, and I couldn't come up with a good reason to be
traveling alone, word would get back to my parents.




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Before I could make out anyone on board, a voice shouted, "Can you help me? I'm lost!"
I thought for a while before replying. The voice sounded almost matter-of-fact, making light
of this blunt admission of helplessness, but it was no joke. If you were sick, your diurnal sense
and your field sense could both become scrambled, making the stars much harder to read. It had
happened to me a couple of times, and it had been a horrible experience -- even standing safely on
the deck of our boat. This late at night, a launch with only its field sense to guide it could