"Jo Walton - Unreliable Witness" - читать интересную книгу автора (Walton Jo)

Unreliable Witness
By Jo Walton

15 January 2001


I don't know if this is the same tape as last time, because They keep moving
things around and stealing them. I don't know who does it. It may be the staff
here, or my own family when they come to visit, or the aliens, but somebody's
always doing it -- taking my glasses, my tapes, my TV remote, anything I put
down for a second. I don't think it's the other residents. I used to think that, but
I don't think they're that organised. Some of them are a bit senile, to tell you the
truth, can't remember what they're talking about, never mind that it's time to go
and steal my biscuit. They're not methodical enough to plague me like that. Still
and all, whoever it is, I've managed to get a blank tape and the machine at the
same time. I tested it and heard my horrible quavery voice, but it works.


Straight in then, straight to it, who knows how much time I have left before
somebody bothers me. My name is Katherine Whippleshaw, and I'm eighty-nine
years old. Last week I was visited by an alien.


He said his name was Tom. I'd never seen him before. He looked years younger
than anyone I've seen for months. He looked as if he was about twelve. He put
his head around my door and said "Mrs. Whippleshaw? Can I talk to you?" I
agreed, of course. It's very boring in here. People treat me as if I'm an idiot. It's
not just stealing my things. I mean it's very annoying that anything gets stolen if
I let it out of my hands for a second, but I've learned how to cope. I keep my
handbag on my shoulder, and the remote in one hand all the time, even when
I'm eating. Oh, and my glasses on a chain around my neck. That was Kim's idea.
Kim's my granddaughter. She's very clever. She gave me the chain. I was
disappointed at the time because it wasn't a book.


At one time, even after They'd got at all the other books in the world and made
the print jump up and down, Kim could still find me books I could read. I
remember the day even she couldn't find any any more, when she brought me a
new Anthony Burgess and the lines were wriggling. I could have cried. Well, I did
cry. I didn't behave well at all. I didn't even feel as bad as that when John died,
as if there was nothing at all worth carrying on living for. I used words I've never
used, words I'd heard men on the sites using, wasn't even sure what some of
them meant, but I shouldn't have said them to Kim. Kim understood I was just
upset and frustrated, but Janice was there, and Janice thought this was a sure
sign I was losing my mind. Oh, wait until you're eighty-nine, my proper little
daughter-in-law, wait until They're conspiring against you and taking your books
away before you're so quick to judge.


Janice is part of the conspiracy, I think. She talks in code. She spells words out,