"Oswald Bastable - 03 - The Steel Tsar" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moorcock Michael)

Introduction

The discovery and subsequent publication of two manuscripts left in the
possession of my grandfather has led
to a considerable amount of speculation as to their authenticity and authorship.
The manuscripts consisted of one
made in my grandfather's hand and taken down from the mysterious
Captain Bastable whom he met on Rowe Island in the early years of this century,
and another, apparently written
by Bastable himself, which was left with my grandfather when he visited China
searching for the man who had
become, he was told, 'a nomad of the time-streams'.
These very slightly edited texts were published by me as THE WARLORD OF THE
AIR and THE LAND
LEVIATHAN and I was certain that it was the last I should ever know of
Bastable's adventures. When I remarked
in a concluding note to THE LAND LEVIATHAN that I hoped Una Persson would some
day pay me a visit I was
being ironic. I did not believe that I should ever meet the famous chrononaut.
As luck would have it, I began to
receive visits from her very shortly after I had prepared THE LAND LEVIATHAN.
She seemed glad to have me
to talk to and gave me permission to use much of what she told me about her
experiences in our own and others'
time-streams. On the matter of Oswald Bastable, however, she was incommunicative
and I learned very quickly
not to pump her. Most of my references to him in other books (for instance THE
DANCERS AT THE END OF
TIME) were highly speculative.
In the late spring of 1979, shortly after I had finished a novel and was
resting from the consequent exhaustion,
which had left my private life in ruins and my judgment considerably weakened, I
had a visit from Mrs. Persson at
my flat in London. I was in no mood to see another human being, but she had
heard from somewhere (or perhaps
had already seen from the future) that I was in distress and had come to ask if
there was anything she could do for
me. I said that there was nothing. Time and rest would deal with my problems.
She acknowledged this and, with a small smile, added: 'But eventually you
will need to work.'
I suppose I said something self-pitying about never being able to work again
(I share that in common with
almost every creative person I know) and she did not attempt to dissuade me from
the notion.
'However,' she said, 'if you do ever happen to feel the urge, I'll be in
touch.'
Curiosity caught me. 'What are you talking about?'
'I have a story for you,' she said.
'I have plenty of stories,' I told her, 'but no will to do anything with
them. Is it about Jherek Carnelian or the