"Michael Swanwick - The Raggle Taggle Gypsy - O" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swanwick Michael)

whenever it came on.

It was upstairs downstairs the lady went
Put on her suit of leather-o
And there was a cry from around the door
She's away wi' the raggle taggle gypsy-o

To tell the truth, the music wasn't exactly to his taste. But that was what they liked
back where Annie came from. She couldn't stand his music. Said it was just noise.
But when he felt that smile and those eyes on him it was better than three nights in
Tijuana with any other woman he'd ever met. So he didn't see any point in making a
big thing out of it.

The wheel was starting to freeze up on them again. Crow was looking for a good
place to pull off and dump in a few cans of fluid, when suddenly Annie shivered and
sat up straight. She stared off into the distance, over the eternal mountains. "What is
it?" he asked.

"I have a premonition."

"Of what?" He didn't much like her premonitions. They always came true.

"Something. Over there." She lifted her arm and pointed.

Two Basilisks lifted up over the mountains.
"Shit!"

He stepped on the gas. "Hold tight, babe. We're almost there. I think we can outrun
'em."

****

They came down the exit ramp with the steering column moaning and howling like a
banshee. Crow had to put all his weight on the wheel to make it turn. Braking, he left
the timeless lands.

And came out in Rome.

One instant they were on the exit ramp surrounded by lifeless mountains. The next
they were pushing through narrow roads choked with donkey carts and toga-clad
pedestrians. Crow brought the truck to a stop, and got out to add fluid.

The truck took up most of the road. People cursed and spat at him for being in their
way. But nobody seemed to find anything unusual in the fact that he was driving an
internal-combustion engine. They all took it in their stride.

It was wonderful how the timelines protected themselves against anachronisms by
simply ignoring them. A theoretical physicist Crow had befriended in Babylon had
called it "robust integrity". You could introduce the printing press into dynastic
Egypt and six months later the device would be discarded and forgotten.