"Michael Swanwick - Scherzo with Tyrannosaur" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swanwick Michael)

"A tyrannosaur is an advantageous hunter," I said, "like a lion. When
it chances upon something convenient, believe you me, it'll attack. And when
a tyrannosaur is hurting, like old Satan is -- well, that's about as savage
and dangerous as any animal can be. It'll kill even when it's not hungry."
That satisfied him. "Good," he said. "I'm glad."
In companionable silence, we stared into the woods together, looking
for moving shadows. Then the chime sounded for dinner to begin, and I sent
the kid back to his table. The last hadrosaurs were gone by then.
He went with transparent reluctance.
The Cretaceous Ball was our big fund-raiser, a hundred thousand dollars
a seat, and in addition to the silent auction before the meal and the dancing
afterwards, everybody who bought an entire table for six was entitled to their
very own paleontologist as a kind of party favor.
I used to be a paleontologist myself, before I was promoted. Now I
patrolled the room in tux and cummerbund, making sure everything was running
smoothly.
Waiters slipped in and out of existence. You'd see them hurry behind
the screen hiding the entrance to the time funnel and then pop out immediately
on the other side, carrying heavily-laden trays. Styracosaurus medallions in
mastodon mozzarella for those who liked red meat. Archaeopteryx almondine for
those who preferred white. Radicchio and fennel for the vegetarians.
All to the accompaniment of music, pleasant chitchat, and the best view
in the universe.
Donald Hawkins had been assigned to the kid's table -- the de Cherville
Family. According to the seating plan the heavy, phlegmatic man was Gerard,
the money-making paterfamilias. The woman beside him was Danielle, once his
trophy wife, now aging gracefully. Beside them were two guests -- the
Cadigans -- who looked a little overwhelmed by everything and were probably a
favored employee and spouse. They didn't say much. A sullen daughter,
Melusine, in a little black dress that casually displayed her perfect breasts.
She looked bored and restless -- trouble incarnate. And there was the kid,
given name Philippe.
I kept a close eye on them because of Hawkins. He was new, and I
wasn't expecting him to last long. But he charmed everyone at the table.
Young, handsome, polite -- he had it all. I noticed how Melusine slouched
back in her chair, studying him through dark eyelashes, saying nothing.
Hawkins, responding to something young Philippe had said, flashed a boyish,
devil-may-care grin. I could feel the heat of the kid's hero-worship from
across the room.
Then my silent beeper went off, and I had to duck out of the late
Cretaceous and back into the kitchen, Home Base, year 2082.
****
There was a Time Safety Officer waiting for me. The main duty of a TSO is to
make sure that no time paradoxes occur, so the Unchanging wouldn't take our
time privileges away from us. Most people think that time travel was invented
recently, and by human beings. That's because our sponsors don't want their
presence advertised.
In the kitchen, everyone was in an uproar. One of the waiters was
leaning, spraddle-legged and arms wide, against the table, and another was
lying on the floor clutching what looked to be a broken arm. The TSO covered