"Peter Watts - Blindsight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watts Peter)

even alive? Do you think it's easy raising a child like that on your
own?
She'd blamed him for everything, but he bore it gracefully
because he knew it was all a lie. He knew he was only the
pretense. She wasn't leaving because he was AWOL, or unfaithful.
Her departure had nothing to do with him at all. It was me. Helen
had left the world because she couldn't stand to look at the thing
Peter Watts 25 Blindsight

who'd replaced her son.
I would have pursued itтАФwould have tried yet again to make my
father seeтАФbut by now we'd left the gates of Heaven for the streets
of Purgatory, where pedestrians on all sides murmured in
astonishment and stared open-mouthed at the sky. I followed their
gaze to a strip of raw twilight between the towers, and gaspedтАФ
The stars were falling.
The Zodiac had rearranged itself into a precise grid of bright
points with luminous tails. It was as though the whole planet had
been caught in some great closing net, the knots of its mesh aglow
with St. Elmo's fire. It was beautiful. It was terrifying.
I looked away to recalibrate my distance vision, to give this ill-
behaved hallucination a chance to vanish gracefully before I set my
empirical gaze to high-beam. I saw a vampire in that moment, a
female, walking among us like the archetypal wolf in sheep's
clothing. Vampires were uncommon creatures at street level. I'd
never seen one in the flesh before.
She had just stepped onto the street from the building across the
way. She stood a head taller than the rest of us, her eyes shining
yellow and bright as a cat's in the deepening dark. She realized, as
I watched, that something was amiss. She looked around, glanced
at the skyтАФand continued on her way, totally indifferent to the
cattle on all sides, to the heavenly portent that had transfixed them.
Totally indifferent to the fact that the world had just turned inside-
out.
It was 1035 Greenwich Mean Time, February 13, 2082.

*

They clenched around the world like a fist, each black as the
inside of an event horizon until those last bright moments when
they all burned together. They screamed as they died. Every radio
up to geostat groaned in unison, every infrared telescope went
briefly snowblind. Ashes stained the sky for weeks afterwards;
mesospheric clouds, high above the jet stream, turned to glowing
rust with every sunrise. The objects, apparently, consisted largely
of iron. Nobody ever knew what to make of that.
Peter Watts 26 Blindsight

For perhaps the first time in history, the world knew before being
told: if you'd seen the sky, you had the scoop. The usual arbiters of