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

"Yeah," Jeff smiled, "it's getting worse and worse. Look,
I wonder if you might be able to help me. I'm disoriented, I've
got to know what the date is." Jeff leaned out of the booth,
deaf to the quarters that clanged in the coin return.
"I can dig it, man, really."
"Good, then, can you tell me what the date is?" He inhaled
deeply of the less tainted air outside the booth. Compared to
what he had just been breathing in, it smelled like perfume.
"Well, like, that's a difficult question, man. I mean it's
November 21st now, but it'll be November 22nd in a few minutes.
And of course for the cats over in England it's already been
November 22nd for a few hours, and--"
"Ok, good," Jeff said. "And the year?"
"The year?"
"Right, the year -- as in 19..."
"Oh, well that's the same everywhere, man. 1963."
"What?"
"I know it, man, time flies faster and faster these days..."
Jeff walked dazedly down the street, fighting to think
through flashes that spat at his brain. What the hell was this?
He was supposed to have emerged some time in the Fall -- the end
of November was cutting it a little close, but ok, that still
gave him at least some weeks to get to NASA, Morton Thiokol,
whomever. He knew the Thorne wasn't perfectly precise. How
could it be -- generating the kind of savagely powerful local
field needed to keep the Artificial Worm Hole open long enough
to operate across time. So it couldn't be that exact. But 23
years? What could he do to prevent the Challenger explosion
back here in 1963?
He shook his head and it cleared a little. He had no
choice now but to return to the lounge, activate the mechanism
for return to 2084, and try the damn thing again. He retraced
his steps to the Student Building. But his legs moved slower and
slower, as if they opposed the decision to return. Finally he
stopped.
He stared at the Student Building across the street. He
focused on its gargoyled facade and played with a quarter in his
pocket. He pivoted suddenly and walked quickly again in the
direction of the Park. A hundred and twenty-one years was a
long time to have traveled into the past just to rush right
back. He could take a few more minutes to think this over.
***
He wandered towards Sixth Avenue, then inside a coffee
shop. He sat down and read the sticky plastic menu without
comprehension. The cracks in the red leatherette upholstery
jabbed his thighs.
"Had a rough day, huh honey? What'll it be?" The dyed
blonde waitress was right out of a turn-of-the-cen video. Upset
as he was, Jeff the cultural historian liked this.
"Just a tea with milk, please." By any conceivable logic,