"Ian R. MacLeod - Papa" - читать интересную книгу автора (Macleod Ian R)

She laughs, shaking her head.
Music is playing. Wine is flowing. The port is beautiful in daylight, but even more so under these
lanterns, these stars, this moon, on this warm summer night. Someone grabs Saul and pulls him out to join
the dance that fills the square. Agatha remains sitting by me. TheyтАЩre sweet, considerate kids. One of
them always stays at PapaтАЩs side.
тАЬDo you know what kind of work Bill does these days?тАЭ I ask AgathaтАФa clumsy attempt both to
satisfy my curiosity, and to raise the subject of Bill and Meg.
тАЬPe works the markets, Papa. Like always. He sells commodities.тАЭ
тАЬBut if he deals in things,тАЭ I say, genuinely if only vaguely puzzled, тАЬthat must mean there isnтАЩt enough
of everythingтАж?тАЭ But perhaps itтАЩs another part of the game. If everything was available in unlimited
supply, there would be no fun left, would there? Nothing to save up for. No sense of anticipation or
pleasurable denial. But then, how come Bill takes it all so seriously? WhatтАЩs he trying to prove?
Agatha shrugs So What? at my question anyway. She really doesnтАЩt understand these things herself,
and cares even less. Then someone pulls her up into the dance, and Saul takes her place beside me. The
moment is lost. SaulтАЩs tapping his feet. Smiling at Agatha as her bright skirt swirls. No metacam tonight,
no Picasso faces. She doesnтАЩt dissolve or clap her hands, burst into laughter or tears, or walk back
singing to the table. But itтАЩs hard not to keep thinking of all those tumbling possibilities. Where does it
end? Is there a different Papa for every moment, even one that sprawls dying right now on these slick
cobbles as blood pumps out from fragile arteries into his brain? And is there another one, far across the
barricades of time, that sits here with Saul as Agatha swirls and dances, with Hannah still at his side?
I reach for my wine glass and swallow, swallow. HannahтАЩs deadтАФbut what if one cell, one strand of
double helix, one atom had been differentтАж? Or perhaps if Hannah had been less of an optimist? What if
she hadnтАЩt ignored those tiny symptoms, those minor niggles, if sheтАЩd worried and gone straight to the
doctor and had the tests? Or if it had happened later, just five or ten years later, when there was a
guaranteed cureтАж? But stillтАФand despite the metacamтАФIтАЩm convinced that thereтАЩs only one real
universe. All the rest is hocus pocus, the flicker of an atom, quantum magic. And, after all, it seems
churlish to complain about a world where so many things have finally worked out rightтАж
тАЬPenny for them.тАЭ
тАЬWhat?тАЭ
тАЬYour thoughts.тАЭ Saul pours out more wine. тАЬItтАЩs a phrase.тАЭ
тАЬOh yes.тАЭ My head is starting to fizz. I drink the wine. тАЬItтАЩs an old one. I know it.тАЭ
 The music stops. Agatha claps, her hands raised, her face shining. The crowd pushes by. Time for
drinks, conversation. Looking across the cleared space of the square, down the shadowed street leading
to the harbor, I see a grey-haired woman walking toward us. I blink twice, slowly, waiting for her to
disappear. But my ears pick up the clip of her shoes over the voices and the re-tuning of the band. SheтАЩs
smiling. She knows us. She waves. As my heart trampolines on my stomach, she crosses the square and
pulls a seat over to our table.
тАЬMay I?тАЭ
Agatha and Saul nod Yes. TheyтАЩre always happy to meet new people. Me, IтАЩm staring. SheтАЩs not
Hannah, of course. Not Hannah.
тАЬRemember?тАЭ She asks me, tucking her dress under her legs as she sits down. тАЬI helped carry your
bags to that car of yours. IтАЩve seen it once or twice in the square. IтАЩve always wondered who drove it.тАЭ
тАЬItтАЩs PapaтАЩs pride and joy,тАЭ Agatha says, her chest heaving from the dance.
The woman leans forward across the table, smiling. Her skin is soft, plump, downy as a peach.
I point to Saul. тАЬMy grandson hereтАЩs got this device. He tells me it projects other possible worldsтАФтАЭ
тАЬтАФOh, you mean a metacam.тАЭ She turns to Saul. тАЬWhat model?тАЭ
Saul tells her. The woman who isnтАЩt Hannah nods, spreads her hands, sticks out her chin a little. ItтАЩs
not the choice sheтАЩd have made, butтАж
тАЬMore wine, Papa?тАЭ
I nod. Agatha pours.