"Larry Niven & Jerry Pournelle - Lucifer ' s Hammer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Niven Larry)

The only real calm was at the edge of interstellar space, in the halo, where millions of thinly
spread comets, each as far from its nearest brother as Earth is from Mars, cruise forever through
the cold black vacuum. Here its endless quiet sleep could last for billions of years . . . but not
forever. Nothing lasts forever.

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THE ANVIL

Against boredom, even the gods themselves struggle in vain.

Nietzsche

January: The Portent

The bay trees in our country are all wither'd
And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven;
The pale faced moon looks bloody on the earth
And lean look'd prophets whisper fearful change.
These signs forerun the death or fall of kings.

William Shakespeare, Richard II




The blue Mercedes turned into the big circular drive of the Beverly Hills mansion at precisely
five after six. Julia Sutter was understandably startled. "Good God, George, it's Tim! And dead on
time."

George Sutter joined her at the window. That was Tim's car, yup. He grunted and turned back to the
bar. His wife's parties were always important events, so why, after weeks of careful engineering
and orchestration, was she terrified that no one would show up? The psychosis was so common there
ought to be a name for it.

Tim Hamner, though, and on time. That was strange. Tim's money was third generation. Old money, by
Los Angeles standards, and Tim had a lot of it. He only came to parties when he wanted to.

The Sutters' architect had been in love with concrete. There were square walls and square angles
for the house, and softly curving free form pools in the gardens outside; not unusual for Beverly
Hills, but startling to easterners. To their right was a traditional Monterey villa of white
stucco and red tile roofs, to the left a Norman chateau magically transplanted to California. The
Sutter place was set well back from the street so that it seemed divorced from the tall palms the
city fathers had decreed for this part of Beverly Hills. A great loop of drive ran up to the house