"Allen Steele - Glorious Destiny" - читать интересную книгу автора (Steele Allen)

been pushed aside to make room for card tables; there's a couple of bridge games
going on, but a few people are also playing chess or backgammon, and some of the
younger children are huddled around a Parcheesi board. Dogs lounge on the
blackwood floor, showing only slight interest in the mama cat nursing her kittens in a
nearby box. A platter of home-fried potato chips and onion dip has been laid out on
the side table beneath a watercolor painting of the Alabama; a pot of coffee stays
warm on the stove in the center of the room, itself fashioned from an old oxygen cell
salvaged from one of the habitat modules.
And there's music. A three-man jug bandтАФthe Crab Suckers, a private joke no
one else understandsтАФis on the raised platform at the front of the room, where the
council usually sits when the monthly town meeting is in session. With the exception
of Ted LeMare's antique Hammond harmonica, brought with him from Earth, their
instruments were hand-made by Paul Dwyer, the bassist, and their repertoire mainly
consists of twentieth century blues and country standards. But they've been working
out some original material lately; as Lee walks in, Barry Dreyfus, Jack's boy, is
singing:

"Catwhale, stay away from me.
Catwhale, stay away from me.
Just lost in your river, can't you see?
Catwhale, stay away from me..."

Not quite up the standards of Barry's idol Robert Johnson, but for homespun
music it isn't bad. Lee helps himself to a mug of black coffee, and reflects upon the
circumstances that inspired this song. Barry was one of the members of the ill-fated
Montero Expedition, the group of teenagers that attempted to sail down the Great
Equatorial last summer. Considering the fact that one of his friends was killed when a
catwhale attacked their canoes, the lyrics are strangely light-hearted; perhaps black
humor is Barry's way of dealing with David Levin's death.

"Catwhale, don't eat me.
Catwhale, don't eat me.
There's a lot of other fish you can have for free.
Mr. Catwhale, don't eat me...puh-lease!"

Morbid, yes, yet then Lee notices Wendy Gunther sitting nearby. Her legs
crossed, her left toe tapping the floor beneath her long catskin skirt, as she bounces
baby Susan on her knee. Wendy's another member of the expedition; the last line of
Barry's song refers to her near-death experience, but if she thinks it's in bad taste,
there's no indication. Susan smiles in delight, babbles something that may be a
compliment.
We've raised a tough generation, Lee thinks. Almost four Earth years, and the
kids are hard as nails.
He can't decide whether he likes that notion or not. Wendy's just turned eighteen,
yet not only is she now a mother, but in the last election she managed to get herself
voted onto the Town Council, replacing Sissy Levin when she unexpectedly resigned.
Wendy ran for office on the platform that Liberty's younger generation needed a voice
in the colony government, and since then she's carried out her responsibilities well.
Lee can't complain about her performance, yet whenever he sees her, he feels a
twinge of long-suppressed guilt. Her father...