"Kathleen Ann Goonan - The Bride of Elvis" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goose Mother)

THE BRIDE OF ELVIS
by KATHLEEN ANN GOONAN

[VERSION 1.1 (Dec 20 02). If you find and correct errors in the text, please update the version number by 0.1 and
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First published in Science Fiction Age, May '96.


Finding the tomb of Elvis empty was a big shock for Darlene.
She usually rose just before dawn, the nicest time of day here at Graceland, when it was all misty and as pretty as
the Day of Instantaneous Redemption was going to be.
But this particular Sunday, the hot sun coming in the nine-foot-high window hit Darlene square in the face as she
lay dreaming of mana, white and lovely. She stirred, blinked, and then slipped back into the dream, where she was a
child again, eating as much mana as she could stuff down, while the others laughed at her greed and urged her on.
She rolled over and luxuriated atop the warmth of her round, leather-rimmed waterbed, resting her ear against the
black satin sheet to hear the soothing slosh within.
Then she opened her eyes.
The readout on her alarm was blinking. Power must have gone out. Either that or she had messed it up again. Shoot.
It was probably after eight, and Lu Ellen would have gone off-shift at seven.
So?
It was Sunday. Darlene went limp again. A slow day. Graceland wouldn't open until 9:30. She had plenty of time to
check Elvis' readouts, and she had given Ella Mae in the Gift Shop a stockpile of hair snippings and skin scrapings, all
ready in their little plastic twist-boxes (Ella Mae couldn't accuse her of being lazy this time and leaving all the work for
someone else), so she wouldn't have to fool with that this morning.
But after five more minutes of sloth, she heaved herself out of bed, put on her plastic cap and showered, then sat
down at her white French Provincial dressing table.
She pulled big rollers out of her long, honey-colored hair and put on foundation, cool and smooth against her skin,
powder, and red lipstick. She touched on the comp-sphere, and the Hearings began to play.
The King, the King
Will rise again
Through air of gold and fire.
Her favorite. She hummed along with the ethereal voices of the Elvis Choir, then it got into the Prophecies, about
the ship coming back with plenteous mana for all.
As Darlene listened, she put on her eye makeup, which she especially loved. Mermaid Green eyeshadow, with little
sparkles in it, right after the black eyeliner. She shopped at the Rex-Mart down on Magnolia. That was the only place
she could find Mermaid Green.
Fake eyelashes and lots of thick, black mascara. There. When the daily Prophecy was over, she turned on the radio
and looked in the closet.
"Love me tender, love me true, never let me go," The King sang via KYNG, right across the river.
You bet, honey. Oh, you bet.
As she buttoned her lace blouse, a public service message urged the latest solution to help everyone stay prepared
for the Great Return in case it took much longer, head-freezing. For the ones who didn't want to put up with any more
bull while they waited. Elizabeth Taylor was going to do it, apparently, and some other humans, like Timothy Leary and
Michael Jackson.
Darlene laughed out loud when she heard that, but it was really kind of sad. There was always that seepage
between them and humans, but head-freezing wouldn't work for humans, of course. Tiny, but crucial, things about
their physiology were entirely different; they couldn't regenerate. Not to mention that their technology was so
primitive.