"Charles L. Harness-Child by Chronos" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harness Charles L)

like that?" I snapped my fingers.
 "Precisely."
"But can't you stop it? Can't your psychiatrist do something?"
"Nobody could do anything for me even if I wanted him to. And I don't want to know what is going to
happen after midnight, June 3."
With troubled eyes I studied her face.
At that moment, just as though she'd planned it, the clocks began to chime, as if to remind me of our
unwritten agreement not to probe into her strange gift.
The answer was only six months away. For the time being, I was willing to let it ride.
The epilog to our little conversation was this:
A couple of months later, after I was back at school in Zurich, a friend of mine wrote me (1) that the
rapids had been diverted from the stream bed; (2) that just below the balcony the now dry ravine
contained ten feet of fresh hay; (3) that the hay was rigged with electronic circuits to sound an alarm in
the lodge if anyone went near it; (4) that the dogwood trees had been cut down; (5) that in their place
stood a small landing field; (6) and on that field there stood an ambulance copter, hired from a New
York hospital, complete with pilot and intern.
"Anility," wrote my friend, "is supposed to develop early in some cases. You ought to come home."
I was having fun at school. I didn't want to come home. Anyway, if mother was losing her mind, there
was nothing anybody could do. Furthermore, I didn't want to give up my plans for summering in Italy.
A month later, early in May, my friend wrote again.
It seems that the haystack alarm had gone off one night, two weeks previous, and mother and the
servants had hurried down to find a bloody-faced one-eyed man crawling up the gravelly ravine bank. In
one hand he was clutching an old pistol. According to reports, mother had the copter whisk him to a
New York hospital, where he still was. He was due to be discharged May 6. The next day, by my
calculations.
There were details about how mother had redecorated to bedrooms at the lodge. I knew the
bedrooms. They adjoined each other.
Even before I finished the letter I realized there was nothing the matter with mother's mind and never
had been. That witch had foreseen all this.
The thing that was the matter, and which had apparently escaped everyone but me and mother, was
that mother had finally fallen in love.
This was serious.
I canceled the remainder of the semester and the Italian tour and caught the first jet home. I didn't tell
anyone I was coming.
So, when I paid off the taxi at the gatehouse, I was able to walk unannounced and unseen around the
edge of the estate, and then cut in through the woods toward the ravine and lodge just beyond it.
The first thing I saw emerging from the trees along the ravine bank was the famous bargain basement
haystack. It was occupied.
The sun was shining, but it was early in May, and not particularly warm. Still, mother was wearing one
of those new sun briefs that-- well, you get the idea. I guess haystacks generate a lot of heat.
Spontaneous combustion.
Mother was facing away from me, obstructing his one good eye. I hadn't made a sound, but I was
suddenly aware of the fact that she had been expecting me and knew I was there.
She turned around, sat up, and smiled at me. "Hi there! Welcome home! Oh, excuse me, this is our
good friend, Doctor... ah... Brown. John Brown. Just call him Johnny." She picked up a sliver of hay
from her hair and flashed a grin at "Johnny."
I stared at them both in turn. Doctor Brown raised up on one elbow and returned my stare as amiably
as the glaring black patch over his right eye would permit. "Hello, honey," he said gravely.
Then he and mother burst out laughing.
It was the queerest sound I'd ever heard. Just as though nothing on earth could ever again be