"Paul Levinson - Loose Ends (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Levinson Paul)

clarified butter.
"...traffic light in most places but still heavy on the
Kosciusko Bridge," the radio continued. "H0A halfway through the
third shift with you on WABC. Good morning!"
Jeff hoisted himself out of the easy chair. His clothes
felt stale and rumpled -- he had spent the night in them -- and
he needed a shave. He stripped, showered, shaved, and
approached the pile which served as his wardrobe closet. Today
would be a special day. He put on a blue buttondown shirt, dark
brown corduroy slacks, and pulled his Navy blue knit tie into a
loose fitting double-Windsor, the only kind of knot he knew how
to make. He slung a corduroy jacket over his shoulder and
ambled down the three flights of stairs.
Jeff played with his scrambled eggs at the Yorkville
Restaurant and considered his situation for a thousandth time.
He pushed three pieces of egg to one side. His arrival 23 years
earlier than planned, the luggage accident in Dallas, the
destruction of the student lounge -- were these all related, or
three pieces of random, rotten luck?
He couldn't accept his being a Robinson Crusoe in the past.
He understood his predicament, his utter stranding in the 1960s,
logically enough. And yet some part of him had waited these
past five months, hoping that one of his team would one day
miraculously appear to rescue him. He'd imagined Rena in this
role, but how could she? The mouth to 1963 had been sealed
with the implosion or trashing or whatever had taken out the
lounge. He'd been back up there several times, when no one was
around, but the lounge had been totally reconstructed, with no
sign of the AWH.
The team had no way of knowing he was even here --
presumably all they would know is that he hadn't succeeded in
stopping the Challenger disaster. If they sent anyone else
back, it would likely be to 1985, where he was supposed to have
gone, not here. And who knows if Rena or whoever would succeed
any better than he. Maybe Steven Hawking was right in his
chronology protection conjecture -- maybe the universe protects
itself from alterations via time travel -- removes unwelcome
Thornes from its side -- whether by misdirecting travellers,
blowing up AWHs, both, more.
So he was probably stranded. But maybe not totally without
options. He had to gingerly probe the contours of time travel
-- see just what small things it might allow, and then perhaps
he'd try a few larger things. What he had in mind for today was
the first modest step in this direction.
Jeff paid for his breakfast and walked out into the cool
morning sunlight. His money problems were finally over -- he had
a job with a decent salary. Some parts of the team's exhaustive
planning had worked out after all, had survived his immersion
in a time 23 years earlier than expected. Their massive search
of historical records had uncovered fourteen Harrises who had