"Utley, Steven - The Real World" - читать интересную книгу автора (Utley Steven)

The Real World
by Steven Utley


Everything felt like a dream. The flight attendants seemed to whisper past in the aisle. The other passengers were but shadows and echoes. Through the window, he could see the wing floating above an infinite expanse of cloudtop as flat and featureless as the peneplained landscapes of the Paleozoic. I'm just tired, he thought, without conviction.

Ivan forced his attention back to the laptop. He had called up an old documentary in which he himself appeared. "Resume," he said, very softly, and the image on the screen unfroze, and a familiar, strange voice said, "Plant life may actually have invaded the land during the Ordovician Period." Is that really me? he thought. My face, my eyes, I look so unlived-in. "We know about two dozen genera of land plant in the Silurian," and the screen first showed a tangle of creeping green tendrils at his younger self's feet, "such as these, which are called psilophytes," then a glistening algal mat. "The big flat things you see all over the mudflats are Nematophycus. The point isЧ"

His earphone buzzed softly. "Pause," he murmured to the laptop, and the image on the screen froze once more. He said, "Hello?" and heard his brother say, "How's the flight?"

"Don. I hope you're not calling to rescind my invitation."

"Michelle'll pick you up at the airport as planned. I'm just calling to warn you and apologize in advance. I just got an invitation I can't refuse to a social event tomorrow evening."

"No need to apologize."

"Sure there is. This is a soirщe of Hollywood swine."

"I can use the time to rest up for Monday."

"Well, actually, I'd sort of like to take you along. In case I need somebody intelligent to talk to. Unless, of course, you think you'd be uncomfortable."

Ivan examined the prospect for a moment, then said, "On Tuesday I'm going to read a paper on Paleozoic soils at the Page Museum. Young snotnoses keen to establish their reputations on the ruins of mine will be there. In light of that, I can't imagine how people who undoubtedly don't know mor from mull could possibly make me uncomfortable."

"Good. To the extent possible, I'll camouflage you in my clothing."

"What's the occasion for the party?"

"The occasion's the occasion."

"Let me rephrase the question. Who's hosting the party?"

"Somebody in the business who's throwing himself a birthday party. None of his friends will throw one for him, because he doesn't have any friends. If I hadn't come within an ace of an Oscar last monthЧwhich by the way is the limit of his long-term memoryЧit'd never have occurred to him to invite a writer. If I was a self-respecting writer and not a Hollywood whore, I'd duck it. But, hey, it'll be entertaining from a sociological point of view."

"As long as I get to ogle some starlets."

"Starlets'd eat you alive."

"That would be nice, too. Look, please don't think you have to entertain me the whole time I'm out there."

"Oh, this place'll afford you endless opportunities to entertain yourself."

"I look forward to it."

"See you soon."

"Goodbye."

"Resume," he murmured to the laptop. "The point is."