"James Patrick Kelly - St. Theresa of the Aliens" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kelly James Patrick)

 If the Brides of Christ ruled the world, there would be two classes of
citizens: Roman Catholics and the damned. Their battle plan in the war for
souls is an abrupt about-face and a forced march into the past. Do away with
Vatican II, the Protestant Reconciliation, secularized clergy. It seems that
they are everywhere these days, working even the smallest crowds in their
severe black uniforms, an affectation of the habits formerly worn by nuns and
priests. Yes, men join too, although the symbolism of a man marrying Christ
is jarring. Fanatics do not worry about these things. The Pope does not yet
recognize their activities but neither can he afford to interdict them.
Millions have left the faith; groups like the Brides dominate the remainder of
his dwindling flock. He is already a prisoner of their politics; soon they
will be the Church. As Terry Burelli marched through their ranks they came to
the center of the anti-alien coalition known as the Purgers.
****
Top management at InfoLine quickly discovered that the public's interest in
the aliens was insatiable and so they spun off a special interest channel,
AlienLine. I was put in charge of the start-up. Although the assignment was a
career coup, I could no longer work from my home terminal or even from
InfoLine's headquarters in Philadelphia. I was often away from Nicole two or
three nights a week. It was a difficult time for both of us because her
pregnancy was not going well. For weeks it seemed as if all she could keep
down were unsalted crackers and water. I tried as best I could do be the
doting husband and proudly expectant father but there was the subscription
rate for AlienLine to worry about and plane reservations to Washington and the
problem of finding staff who could tell an adjective from an adverb. Sometimes
I felt as if I had been split into two people, neither of which liked the
other very much.
Nicole and I had never really fought before she got pregnant; now we
seemed to be making up for lost time. We argued about money, about politics,
about the aliens, even about what to watch on telelink. We never shouted or
slammed doors or cried; we just sniped at each other and then were horrified
afterward.
"Wallace?" said Nicole. "Wallace?" She lay on the couch with her feet
raised on a pile of pillows; she was having circulation problems. "Wallace is
a fat man with suspenders smoking a cigar. Our son isn't going to wear
suspenders, is he, Sam? And you're not fat."
"Walter?" I read from Name Your Baby. "Ward? Warren?"
"Wally." She chuckled. "What a lousy nickname." She shifted her
weight restlessly; she could never seem to get comfortable. "I was thinking
that Terry should be the godmother."
"What?" I closed the book.
"I know you don't like her that much but ..."
"Back up. Who said our kid was going to be baptised?"
She rolled over. "Sam, it couldn't hurt."
I tried to stay in control. "Damn it, Nicole, that's hypocrisy. I
haven't been near a church for years and neither have you. We're not
Catholics anymore -- at least, I'm not. When the aliens say there is no God, I
believe them. I don't understand you. Why are you so hot to jump back into a
religion that most thinking people are scrambling to get out of?"
"Pregnancy does that to you. Makes you think about what makes a life.