"Kim Stanley Robinson - Red Mars" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Kim Stanley)

routine. Kids banged little plastic drums. It was loud; the tenting absorbed
sound, so there weren't the echoes one heard under crater domes, but it
was loud nevertheless.
Up there, where the boulevard opened into the sycamore parkЧthat
was John himself, surrounded by a small crowd. He saw Chalmers
approaching and waved, recognizing him despite the mask. That was how
the first hundred knew each otherЕ
"Hey, Frank," he said. "You look like you're having a good time."
"I am," Frank said through his mask. "I love cities like this, don't
you? A mixed-species flock. It shows you what a diverse collection of
cultures Mars is."
John's smile was easy. His eyes shifted as he surveyed the boulevard
below.
Sharply Frank said, "A place like this is a crimp in your plan, isn't it?"
Boone's gaze returned to him. The surrounding crowd slipped away,
sensing the agonistic nature of the exchange. Boone said to Frank, "I don't
have a plan."
"Oh come on! What about your speech?"
Boone shrugged. "Maya wrote it."
A double lie: that Maya wrote it, that John didn't believe it. Even
after all these years it was almost like talking to a stranger. To a politician
at work. "Come on, John," Frank snapped. "You believe all that and you
know it. But what are you going to do with all these different
nationalities? All the ethnic hatreds, the religious manias? Your coalition
can't possibly keep a thumb on all this. You can't keep Mars for
yourselves, John, it's not a scientific station anymore, and you're not going
to get a treaty that makes it one."
"We're not trying to."
"Then why are you trying to cut me out of the talks!"
"I'm not!" John looked injured. "Relax, Frank. We'll hammer it out
together just like we always have. Relax."
Frank stared at his old friend, nonplussed. What to believe? He had
never known how to think of JohnЧthe way he had used Frank as a
springboard, the way he was so friendly. . . hadn't they begun as allies, as
friends?
It occurred to him that John was looking for Maya. "So where is
she?"
"Around somewhere," Boone said shortly.
It had been years since they had been able to talk about Maya. Now
Boone gave him a sharp look, as if to say it was none of his business. As if
everything of importance to Boone had become, over the years, none of
Frank's business.
Frank left him without a word.
# # #
The sky was now a deep violet, streaked by yellow cirrus clouds.
Frank passed two figures wearing white ceramic dominoes, the old
Comedy and Tragedy personas, handcuffed together. The city's streets had
gone dark and windows blazed, silhouettes partying in them. Big eyes
darted in every blurry mask, looking to find the source of the tension in the
air. Under the tidal sloshing of the crowd there was a low tearing sound.