"Michael Swanwick - Mother Grasshopper" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swanwick Michael)

"You're expected." Then, before I could ask any more questions, "That's all I
can tell you, sir. I can neither speak nor understand your language. It is
impossible for me to converse with you."

"Then what the hell," I said testily, "are we doing now?"

He flipped the screen around for me to see. On it was a verbatim transcript of
our conversation. The last line was: I SIMPLY READ WHAT'S ON THE SCREEN, SIR.

Then he turned it back toward himself and said, "I simply read what's --"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I said. And went back to Victoria.

Even at mag-lev speeds, it took two days to travel the full length of the
antenna. To amuse myself, I periodically took out my gravitometer and made
readings. You'd think the figures would diminish exponentially as we climbed out
of the gravity well. But because the antennae swept backward, over the bulk of
the grasshopper, rather than forward and away, the gravitational gradient of our
journey was quite complex. It lessened rapidly at first, grew temporarily
stronger, and then lessened again, in the complex and lovely flattening
sine-wave known as a Sheffield curve. You could see it reflected in the size of
the magnetic rings we flashed through, three per minute, how they grew skinnier
then fatter and finally skinnier still as we flew upward.

On the second day, Victoria gave birth. It was a beautiful child, a boy. I
wanted to name him Hector, after my father, but Victoria was set on Jonathan,
and as usual I gave in to her.

Afterward, though, I studied her features. There were crow's-feet at the corners
of her eyes, or maybe "laugh lines" was more appropriate, given Victoria's
personality. The lines to either side of her mouth had deepened. Her whole face
had a haggard cast to it. Looking at her, I felt a sadness so large and
pervasive it seemed to fill the universe.

She was aging along her own exponential curve. The process was accelerating now,
and I was not at all certain she would make it to Sky Terminus. It would be a
close thing in either case.

I could see that Victoria knew it too. But she was happy as she hugged our
child. "It's been a good life," she said. "I wish you could have grown with me
-- don't pout, you're so solemn, Daniel! -- but other than that I have no
complaints."

I looked out the window for a minute. I had known her for only -what? --a week,
maybe. But in that brief time she had picked me up, shaken me off, and turned my
life around. She had changed everything. When I looked back, I was crying.

"Death is the price we pay for children, isn't it?" she said. "Down below,
they've made death illegal. But they're only fooling themselves. They think it's