"Rhys Hughes - The Singularity Spectres" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hughes Rhys)

telescope I studied the deeps of the shaft in the hope of spying something other than slime and string. I
attempted to judge our velocity, but in an environment lacking scenery this proved extremely difficult. Yet my
estimate of the position of the first supply dump was marvellously accurate. A speck appeared at the
maximum range of my telescope, expanding in the lens and adopting a familiar shape. "Here comes number
one!" I spluttered.

Zimara was cool. "Nice work, Professor. Time to apply the brake. Do you wish to remove your toupee?"
I looked in vain for the mechanism in question. Had he neglected to install one? He chortled at my
perplexity and removed a heavy glove from his pocket. I was incredulous. "You intend to stop us with that?
Did you forget to pack all your senses?"

He smiled, drew on the gauntlet and reached out to grip the string. Smoke poured from his palm and
suddenly the crate lurched, propelling me forward. The empty bottles, which had been resting on Zimara's lap,
also obeyed the law of inertia, hitting me on the head and dislodging my wig. We screeched to a halt next to
the ascending suitcase. Even with castors to smooth its voyage, it was in a sorry condition. But the tough
leather hadn't ruptured and the rations inside were safe. Zimara started to gasp and beads of perspiration
rioted on his cheek. "I can't hold it for much longer! Hurry up with the grab!"

I undid both pieces of string, the upper and lower, from the handle of the suitcase and tied them
together. Then I hoisted the case into the crate and Zimara let go. As we resumed our descent, we
celebrated with a grand snack, polishing off these latest edibles within the hour. Opening a final packet of
biscuits, he congratulated himself profusely. "I can't praise my logistical skills enough," he confided. I tried to
deflate his ego by mentioning a lack of supplies for the return journey, but he even had an answer for this. "No
need, there's food down there. Sequoia-sized mushrooms, for one thing. I know the core quite well. There are
saurians too, living in primordial seas."

"But how do you know the core? And what was all that about going to prison? Are there subterranean
penitentiaries? What was your crime? Will I get into trouble for abetting an escaped convict? Why do you
appear in my nightmares as a hitch-hiker?"

To pass the time, we exchanged histories. Originally a salesman, he had stumbled into the realm of the
paranormal after a practical joke had gone wrong. After impersonating a ghost on a lonely country road, a real
phantom had challenged him to show his haunting license. Unable to bluff a way past this apparition, who
was a sort of otherworldly policeman, he was arrested and put on trial. Apparently, spectral society ran
parallel to our own, with spookily similar institutions. Found guilty, Zimara was incarcerated in a dungeon
deep below the surface of the planet. Managing to escape, he chanced upon the escalator and went down to
the bottom. At the very centre of the world, he discovered a cavern so big it contained oceans and continents,
not to mention diminished versions of the sun and moon hanging suspended in mid-air. Finding an abandoned
canoe, he sailed to an island in the middle of the sea where a sphere of compressed souls rolled round a
deserted plateau.

I was totally absorbed by this tale, but Zimara was quite unable to answer the pressing queries it raised.
How could a spirit be licensed to haunt? Did the ghosts running the prison know about the crushed phantoms
in the cavern? Where did the escalator obtain its power? He shrugged and pouted in lieu of answer. I
suggested the diminutive sun was a source of nuclear energy, a fusion reactor which worked massive motors
at the base of the moving staircase. He offered no opinions on this notion, but when I wondered if the sphere
of compacted spirits was a metaphysical form of punishment, he finally perked up. "Personally I don't
think my captors are aware of what lies beneath them. It was pure luck I broke through into the escalator
shaft. I'll be delighted to share my pet theories with you, if you're interested, but I don't feel capable before
lunch!"