"Robert Reed - Finished" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reed Robert)

Finished
by Robert Reed
Robert ReedтАЩs most recent novel, The Well of Stars , came out from Tor in
April and his new short story collection, The CuckooтАЩs Boys , was published
around the same time by Golden Gryphon Press. In his latest story, he
reveals what it takes to survive.
****
What did I plan? Very little, in truth. An evening walk accompanied by the
scent of flowers and dampened earth, the lingering heat of the day taken as a
reassurance, ancient and holy. I was genuinely happy, as usual. Like a hundred other
contented walkers, I wandered through the linear woods, past loversтАЩ groves and
pocket-sized sanctuaries and ornamental ponds jammed full of golden orfes and
platinum lungfish. When I felt as if I should be tired, I sat on a hard steel bench to
rest. People smiled as they passed, or they didnтАЩt smile. But I showed everyone a
wide grin, and sometimes I offered a pleasant word, and one or two of the strangers
paused long enough to begin a brief conversation.
One manтАФa rather old man, and I remember little elseтАФasked, тАЬAnd how are
you today?тАЭ
Ignoring the implication, I said, тАЬFine.тАЭ
I observed, тАЬItтАЩs a very pleasant evening.тАЭ
тАЬVery pleasant,тАЭ he agreed.
My bench was near a busy avenue, and sometimes I would study one of the
sleek little cars rushing past.
тАЬThe end of a wonderful day,тАЭ he continued.
I looked again at his soft face, committing none of it to memory. But I kept
smiling, and, with a tone that was nothing but polite, I remarked, тАЬThe sunтАЩs setting
earlier now. IsnтАЩt it?тАЭ
The banal recognition of a seasonтАЩs progressionтАФthat was my only intent.
But the face colored, and then with a stiff, easy anger, the man said, тАЬWhat does it
matter to you? ItтАЩs always the same day, after all.тАЭ
Hardly. Yet I said nothing.
He eventually grew tired of my silence and wandered off. With a memory as
selective as it is graceful, I tried to forget him. But since IтАЩm talking about him now, I
plainly didnтАЩt succeed. And looking back on the incident, I have to admit that the
stranger perhaps had some little role in what happened next.
I planned nothing.
 But a keen little anger grabbed me, and I rose up from the bench, and, like
every pedestrian before me, I followed the path to the edge of the avenue. Later, I
was told that I looked like someone lost in deep thought, and I suppose I was. Yet I
have no memory of the moment. According to witnesses, I took a long look up the
road before stepping forward with my right foot. The traffic AI stabbed my eyes
with its brightest beam, shouting, тАЬGo back!тАЭ But I stepped forward again, without
hesitation, plunging directly into the oncoming traffic.
A little pink Cheetah slammed on its brakes. But it was an old car with worn
padsтАФa little detail that couldnтАЩt have found its way into my calculationsтАФand
despite the heroic efforts of its AI pilot, the car was still moving at better than eighty
kilometers an hour when it shattered my hip and threw my limp body across the
hood, my chest and then my astonished face slamming into the windshieldтАЩs flexing
glass.
Again, I tumbled.