"Jeff Hecht - The Crystal Highway" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hecht Jeff)

"But we can't sell it any more, except to a few rock collectors and
scientists."
Poetry didn't sell any more, either. Nobody read it but a few scholars
who passed the thin, finely bound volumes among themselves. Axel could hardly
admit that bitter truth to himself, much less to Klaus Lambrecht. "I want to
see what inspired Vaxila, and find out something about her. How far back do
your records go? She lived her over 50 years ago."
Lambrecht seemed as puzzled by scholars as by fashion. "I guess our
files go back that far, but I doubt you will find much." He pushed back from
the desk, then paused. "I'll have to turn you over to Mary. She manages the
records, but she isn't very pleasant about it."
Axel's face asked why, although he was too proper to say the words.
"She's old, and she can't leave the planet. She had a heart attack
seven years ago, when she was working as our master polisher. It damaged her
heart so badly that the Medicheks won't pass her for space flight, and nothing
out here can repair it. She can't work the crystal any more, but we keep her
on. We owe her that much."
****
As Lambrecht talked with the old woman, Axel realized Vaxila would be
at least as old, if she was still alive. Vaxila had disappeared so utterly
that Axel was sure she had died after writing the HUNDRED POEMS. He could not
imagine that anyone with such a talent could ever stop writing. Perhaps she
had died here, chasing her dreams; perhaps she had left more poems behind.
The old woman interrupted Lambrecht and gestured toward Axel without
looking at him. "You want to let the little clown mess with our business
files?"
"No, I want you to help him."
"Why?"
"Just do it, Mary. The poor man spent a month coming out here."
She turned toward Axel, glowering. "So what do you want?"
 "I'm looking for someone who used the name Vaxila..." Axel began.
"Never heard of her," the woman interrupted.
"I doubt you would have. She was here fifty years ago." He spelled the
name, and gave the dates.
The woman entered the name on the keyboard, not bothering with the
dates, and for minutes the screen said that the machine was "searching." Axel
stared uneasily at the screen, worrying that too much time had passed, and he
might find no trace of Vaxila. At last the machine beeped, and showed a new
display: "NO EXACT MATCH FOUND. NO VARIATIONS WITHIN STANDARD SEARCH LIMITS."
Axel was not surprised; the name was supposed to be a pseudonym, but he
had to be certain. "I expected that. I think she may have died here. Do you
have a list of accident victims?"
"I can tell you right now there weren't any accidental deaths,"
Lambrecht said. "A few people cut themselves, but we've always run a safe
operation. The only person who ever died here was my grandfather, about 20
years ago. He got sick and wouldn't leave."
Axel wondered what else could have happened. He fumbled for his notes,
and asked, "Can you list people who worked here fifty years ago? The women
first?"
"Won't find anything," the woman warned. "Wouldn't bother if I were