"Kathleen Ann Goonan - Memory Dog" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goose Mother)

MEMORY DOG
by Kathleen Ann Goonan

Kathleen Goonan is working on This Shared Dream Called Earth, a novel
that hinges on the latest research about memory, as does тАЬMemory Dog.тАЭ
Other recent short story appearances include tales in The Starry Rift, a YA
anthology from Viking, and Eclipse 1 from Night-Shade. The paperback
edition of In War Times will be out soon from Tor. KathyтАЩs web page is
www.goonan.com.

****

She is always busy and today the temperature is dropping. So she splits
wood and I lie next to her, paws outstretched, belly on cold ground, panting
breath outflowing, white. Memory huge and bleeding, not keeping to one
track, mammalian but skipping, skipping.

She is ferocious with energy. She is mad. The chips fly everywhere
and so do the split logs. Splinter, splinter, splinter: kindling. The insides of
trees smell sweet; sharp.

Arnold Wentworth watches from his wheelchair at the window. She is
not angry at him. We brought him here. It was an arduous journey. But my
kind likes journeys. Their imperativeness pulls us, gives us purpose. We
know we will find you, eventually. Take us for a ride, throw us out of the car
and drive off. We will think you made a big mistake and make it home again.

Split and long crunch of log-fiber. She does not know me, but I know
her. She used to be different, and I was too. I am her memory-device, but
she has lost the key. This happened before our memories were beamed
down to us; among us. Our thoughts, our feelings, re-edited and re-cut
eventsтАФsome true, some false, but all completely manipulativeтАФemanate
from the Allover Station in a constant flood. Some of us knew it was
coming, or at least suspected, and took steps. The three of us in our
strange symbiosis are immune, but we have to live out here, alone. People
would notice. And there are those who want to find us.

A pale flare curves against gathering storm clouds. It comes from
EvanтАЩs Ridge, which used to be a tourist town but which is now a rebel
stronghold. They have a missile launcher hidden in a bread delivery
truckтАФat least thatтАЩs what Jake says. I even hear the small pop when the
missile hits the floater, but she cannot; her senses are dimmer than mine.
 I would not have guessed how many people just wanted, needed, an
excuse to use weapons. Everything went to hell fastтАФovernight, it seemed,
and everywhere. Individuals joyously got out their guns, knives, bombs, and
missiles. Nations happily suspended diplomatic relations and declared war.
We are safe here, at least today. Elizabeth still believes she can change
people, that ArthurтАЩs smacks can do that.

The worst memories, the deepest, most searing, and most universal,