"Michael Marshall Smith - To Receive Is Better" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Michael Marshall)

TO RECEIVE IS BETTER

by

Michael Marshall Smith



IтАЩd like to be going by car, but of course I donтАЩt know how to drive, and it would probably scare the shit out of me. A
car would be much better, for lots of reasons. For a start, thereтАЩs too many people out here. ThereтАЩs so many people.
Wherever you turn thereтАЩs more of them, looking tired, and rumpled, but whole. ThatтАЩs the strange thing. Everybody
is whole.
A car would also be quicker. Sooner or later theyтАЩre going to track me down, and IтАЩve got somewhere to go before
they do. The public transport system sucks, incidentally. Long periods of being crowded into carriages that smell,
interspersed with long waits for another line, and I donтАЩt have a lot of time. ItтАЩs intimidating too. People stare. They
just look and look, and they donтАЩt know the danger theyтАЩre in. Because in a minute one of them is going to look just
one second too long, and IтАЩm going to pull his fucking face off, which will do neither of us any good.
So instead I turn and look out the window. ThereтАЩs nothing to see, because weтАЩre in a tunnel, and I have to shut
my eye to stop myself from screaming. The carriage is like another tunnel, a tunnel with windows, and I feel like IтАЩve
been buried far too deep. I grew up in tunnels, ones that had no windows. The people who made them didnтАЩt even
bother to pretend that there was something to look out on, something to look for. Because there wasnтАЩt. NothingтАЩs
coming up, nothing that isnтАЩt going to involve some fucker coming at you with a knife. So they donтАЩt pretend. IтАЩll say
that for them, at least: they donтАЩt taunt you with false hopes.
Manny did, in a way, which is why I feel complicated about him. On the one hand, he was the best thing that ever
happened to us. But look at it another way, and maybe weтАЩd have been better off without him. IтАЩm being
unreasonable. Without Manny, the whole thing would have been worse, thirty years of utter fucking pointlessness. I
wouldnтАЩt have known, of course, but I do now: and IтАЩm glad it wasnтАЩt that way. Without Manny I wouldnтАЩt be where I
am now. Standing in a subway carriage, running out of time.
People are giving me a wide berth, which I guess isnтАЩt so surprising. Partly itтАЩll be my face, and my leg. People
donтАЩt like that kind of thing. But probably itтАЩs mainly me. I know the way I am, can feel the fury I radiate. ItтАЩs not a
nice way to be, I know that, but then my life has not been nice. Maybe you should try it, and see how calm you stay.
The other reason I feel weird towards Manny is I donтАЩt know why he did it. Why he helped us. Sue 2 says it
doesnтАЩt matter, but I think it does. If it was just an experiment, a hobby, then I think that makes a difference. I think I
would have liked him less. As it happens, I donтАЩt think it was. I think it was probably just humanity, whatever the fuck
that is. I think if it was an experiment, then what happened an hour ago would have panned out differently. For a start,
he probably wouldnтАЩt be dead.
If everythingтАЩs gone okay, then Sue 2 will be nearly where sheтАЩs going by now, much closer than me. ThatтАЩs a
habit IтАЩm going to have to break, for a start. ItтАЩs Sue now, just Sue. No numeral. And IтАЩm just plain old Jack, or I will
be if I get where I am going.
The first thing I can remember, the earliest glimpse of life, is the colour blue. I know now what I was seeing, but at
the time I didnтАЩt know anything different, and I thought that blue was the only colour there was. A soft, hazy blue, a
blue that had a soft hum in it and was always the same clammy temperature.
I have to get out of this subway very soon. IтАЩve taken an hour of it, and thatтАЩs about as far as I can go. ItтАЩs very
noisy in here too, not a hum but a horrendous clattering. This is not the way I want to spend what may be the only
time I have. People keep surging around me, and theyтАЩve all got places to go. For the first time in my life, IтАЩm
surrounded by people whoтАЩve actually got somewhere to go.
And the tunnel is the wrong colour. Blue is the colour of tunnels. I canтАЩt understand a tunnel unless itтАЩs blue. I
spent the first four years of my life, as far as I can work out, in one of them. If it werenтАЩt for Manny, IтАЩd be in one still.
When he came to work at the Farm I could tell he was different straight away. I donтАЩt know how: I couldnтАЩt even think
then, let alone speak. Maybe it was just he behaved differently when he was near us to the way the previous keeper