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

sight.
I checked the stars, and my field sense. The launches should not have been over the horizon.
I trod water, riding the swell, and tried not to think about how tired I was. It was at least two
milliradians to the nearest boat. Good swimmers -- some younger than I was -- competed in
marathons over distances like that, but I'd never even aspired to such feats of endurance.
Unprepared, in the middle of the night, I knew I wouldn't make it.
If the man had given up on me, would he have taken our launch? When they cost so little, and
the markings were so hard to change? That would be nothing but an admission of guilt. So why
couldn't I see it? Either he'd sent it on its way, or it had decided to return home itself.
I knew the path it would have taken; I would have seen it go by, if I'd been looking for it
when I'd surfaced before. But I had no hope of catching it now.
I began to pray. I knew I'd been wrong to leave the others, but I asked for forgiveness, and
felt it being granted. I watched the horizon almost calmly -- smiling at the blue flashes of
meteors burning up high above the ocean -- certain that Beatrice would not abandon me.
I was still praying -- treading water, shivering from the cool of the air -- when a blue
light appeared in the distance. It disappeared as the swell took me down again, but there was no
mistaking it for a shooting star. Was this Daniel and the others -- or the stranger? I didn't have
long to decide; if I wanted to get within earshot as they passed, I'd have to swim hard.
I closed my eyes and prayed for guidance. Please Holy Beatrice, let me know. Joy flooded
through my mind, instantly: it was them, I was certain of it. I set off as fast as I could.
I started yelling before I could see how many passengers there were, but I knew Beatrice
would never allow me to be mistaken. A flare shot up from the launch, revealing four figures
standing side by side, scanning the water. I shouted with jubilation, and waved my arms. Someone
finally spotted me, and they brought the launch around toward me. By the time I was on board I was
so charged up on adrenaline and relief that I almost believed I could have dived back into the
water and raced them home.
I thought Daniel would be angry, but when I described what had happened all he said was,
"We'd better get moving."
Agnes embraced me. Bartholomew gave me an almost respectful look, but Rachel muttered sourly,


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"You're an idiot, Martin. You don't know how lucky you are."
I said, "I know."
Our parents were standing on deck. The empty launch had arrived some time ago; they'd been
about to set out to look for us. When the others had departed I began recounting everything again,
this time trying to play down any element of danger.
Before I'd finished, my mother grabbed Daniel by the front of his shirt and started slapping
him. "I trusted you with him! You maniac! I trusted you!" Daniel half raised his arm to block her,
but then let it drop and just turned his face to the deck.
I burst into tears. "It was my fault!" Our parents never struck us; I couldn't believe what I
was seeing.
My father said soothingly, "Look ... he's home now. He's safe. No one touched him." He put an
arm around my shoulders and asked warily, "That's right, Martin, isn't it?"