"Daniel Keys Moran - Armageddon Blues" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moran Daniel Keys)

The author notes that in the year 1917, Georges Mordreaux two hundred and five years old.

Perhaps he was a bit shallow, at that.

One of the definitions of the word "entropy" is: "The degradation of the matter and energy in the universe
to an ultimate state of inert uniformity." Put more simply: "Things run down."

Georges never read dictionaries. He considered them, being as they were largely artificial attempts to
impose order on the anarchistic languages of man, very much beneath him.

About order-imposers, as dictionary compilers: Georges was better at it.

Indeed, one might consider Georges Mordreaux "The Enemy of Entropy."

Georges liked to.

When the Big Crunch came, and the superpowers decided to sterilize the face of the planet, the
freeways survived.

(Vista: A thousand and one mushroom clouds dotting the face of a small planet. Terminal acne. Winding
lazily among the mushrooms, strips of concrete, overextended roads, observed the goings-on, and later,
when the barbarians and other mutants came howling out of the radioactive ruins to trek the surface of
the freeways among the dead shells of the automobiles, the freeways might have giggled to themselves.
Eventually the cars were dragged from the freeways for use in making weapons, and the freeways were
left alone to contemplate their freewayness.)

DATELINE 711 A.B.C. (AFTER THE BIG CRUNCH).


Ralesh caught her before she had even reached the hills beyond the forest. The little girl had fallen asleep
beneath an old willow, at the edge of the grassy meadow that led up to the foothills. Ralesh, a woman of
early years, awoke the five-year-old unceremoniously, and ran the child the kilometers back to the Clan
House without comment.

She whipped the child publicly. Five lashes; she was not a severe mother. When the punishment was
over, she took her daughter back to the Girls' House. She put her daughter to bed; kissed her on the
forehead, and said gently, "Child, the woods are dangerous for children. There are bears and Real
Indians. There is nothing at the end of the Big Road; the stories are lies."

Her daughter stared up at the oak planks of the Girls' House. She did not speak.

Ralesh sighed. "Daughter, understand this: I will catch you. You cannot run so far nor so fast that I will
not find you. Remember that." She left, and left the girl alone.

When she was gone, Jalian d'Arsennette, the straightline female descendant of Dilann d'Arsennette,
finally let the tears come. It was strange, though; the tears were external, they tracked down her cheeks
and she could hear herself sobbing, but inside none of it mattered.

Inside she was as cold and calm as an elder Hunter. They would be watching her now; but now was not
always. Summer would come again.