"Nancy Kress - By Fools Like Me" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kress Nancy) BY FOOLS LIKE ME
by Nancy Kress Nancy Kress will have three new books out next year: an SF novel from Tor, a collection of short stories from Golden Gryphon Press, and another short novel from Tachyon. In her latest story for us, she takes a chilling look at the fires the future could hold. **** Hope creeps quietly into my bedroom without knocking, peering around the corner of the rough doorjamb. IтАЩm awake; sleep eludes me so easily now. I know from the awful smell that she has been to the beach. тАЬCome in, child, IтАЩm not asleep.тАЭ тАЬGrandma, whereтАЩs Mama and Papa?тАЭ тАЬArenтАЩt they in the field?тАЭ The rains are late this year and water for the crops must be carried in ancient buckets from the spring in the dell. тАЬMaybe. I didnтАЩt see them. Grandma, I found something.тАЭ тАЬWhat, child?тАЭ bothers her. Such a sensitive child, though sturdy and healthy enough, God knows how. тАЬI went to the beach,тАЭ she confesses in a rush. тАЬDonтАЩt tell Mama! I wanted to dig you some trunter roots because you like them so much, but my shovel went clunk on something hard and I ... I dug it up.тАЭ тАЬHope,тАЭ I reprimand, because the beach is full of dangerous bits of metal and plastic, washed up through the miles of dead algae on the dead water. And if a soot cloud blows in from the west, it will hit the beach first. тАЬIтАЩm sorry,тАЭ she says, clearly lying, тАЬbut, Grandma, it was a metal box and the lock was all rusted and there was something inside and I brought it here.тАЭ тАЬThe box?тАЭ тАЬNo, that was too heavy. The ... just wait!тАЭ No one can recognize most of the bits of rusted metal and twisted plastic from before the Crash. Anything found in a broken metal box should be decayed beyond recognition. I call тАЬHope! DonтАЩt touch anything slimyтАФтАЭ but she is already out of earshot, running from my tiny bedroom with its narrow cot, which is just blankets and pallet on a rope frame to keep me off the hard floor. It doesnтАЩt; the old ropes sag too much, just as the thick clay |
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