"Charles Stross - A Boy And His God" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stross Charles)

headed, especially good with academics and those interested in learning, to Osiris, god of the dead and
judge of souls. Actually he's a bit patchy -- ever since his rival Set chopped him into lots of little pieces
and lost them all over the Upper Nile. Tell the truth," Moon added confidentially, "I wouldn't
recommend any of this mob to you; they're a bit clannish and you'll end up with heiroglyphics all over
the bathroom walls and stacks of mummified cats in the cellar." He shut up as Mom nodded and drove
on; like many a salesman before him, Moon had mastered the art of sizing up his client and was
seducing her with his apparent objectivity before the Big Sell.

"Over there we see Valhalla, hall of dead heroes and home of the Norse deities. This lot are especially
good with Scandinavian buyers, but they do tend to drink a lot and party at odd hours. Midnight sun, you
know. We had a few Hells Angels the other week who seemed to think Loki would make a good mascot
for their chapter, but they got kind of annoyed when he cheated at pool. Anyway."

Sophie Phillips drove on, even when the road curled around an outrageous nipple-shaped protrusion
covered in the most intricate mosaics. "Here we have one of the more abstract deities, a kind of second
cousin to that Jewish Big God Person. You can't actually see him but if you adopt him you get to lead a
horde of millions of fanatical followers. He's big on marriage -- you can have up to four wives -- " he
looked at Sophie and backtracked hastily " -- but you get your right hand chopped off for drinking and
you have to pray to him five times a day." Mom glanced at him in the mirror and nodded, very slightly,
as they drove on; Moon sweated. Howie slumped in the back seat, bored.

"Actually, most of the deities in this quadrant are a bit abstract for a kid," Moon chattered. "I'd think a
young man like your son" -- he actually looked at Howie for the first time since getting into the car --
"would be more interested in something he could sort of relate to on a personal level. Now over here --
yeah, you want to take this left fork and carry on there, yes, into the tunnel -- we have a special deal this
week. This is where we keep the Elder Gods. It's not so much that they're old stock as that most people
want, well, something more familiar."

Sophie Phillips, to whom the words more familiar translated as more expensive, sat up straighter. The
road disappeared into a hole in the ground, dropping smoothly until the raw stone arched overhead and
covered them. There were no lamps; she switched the headlights on as she drove. The walls seemed to
glisten with an invisible sheen of sweat, as if the weight above them was squeezing blood from the
stones. This tunnel didn't look like a recent excavation; more like an ancient, dank, brooding gateway
into some isolated network of caverns that had threaded the rocks under New England since long before
European settlers first trod these shores. She removed her glasses, looked about, and sniffed. Birth
tunnel experience, she thought. How Freudian can you get?



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 A Boy and his God

Moon, who had been silent for a few blissful moments, picked up his sales-pitch again. "Folks, you are
now about to see the Elder Gods. This bunch are rather less sociably acceptable than some, they tend to
slobber a bit and you've got to take care not to let them on the carpet. That said, an Elder God can make
a faithful pet, an obedient servant, and a lifetime companion. Keep 'em somewhere shady in the back
yard and water it when it doesn't rain. You won't get any trouble from rats or mice while you've got an
Old One on the premises, and -- "

He shut up as Sophie hit the brakes. The tunnel debouched into a monstrous cavern, the centre of which