"Walter Jon Williams - Witness" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Walter John)

Witness




Witness

Walter Jon Williams


Author's Note: "Witness" is a contribution to the Wild Cards shared-world series, but it stands largely
on its own. In order to understand its premise, only a few things need to be explained. An alien, known
on Earth as Dr. Tachyon, developed the gene-warping wild card virus, which killed most of its victims
horribly, which mutilated most of the survivors, and which, to a lucky few, granted genuine
superpowers. In an alternate 1946, Jetboy, a famous World War II ace, died in an unsuccessful attempt
to prevent terrorists from detonating a wild card bomb over Manhattan. The story begins only a few
minutes after Jetboy's death, as viral spores begin to rain on the city.

The part of the story I didn't make up consists of the HUAC persecutions of the late --40s and '50s. A
depressing feature of this story was hearing from young (and a few not-so-young) readers who assume
that I invented the McCarthy Period for the purposes of this alternate-worlds story. I can only hope that
this disbelief is a measure of how far we've come since the days of HUAC, that it really can't happen
again, rather than an indication of the political naivet├Г┬й that allowed it all to occur in the first place.

W.J.W.

****

When Jetboy died I was watching a matinee of The Jolson Story. I wanted to see Larry Parks's
performance, which everyone said was so remarkable. I studied it carefully and made mental notes.

Young actors do things like that.

The picture ended, but I was feeling comfortable and had no plans for the next few hours, and I wanted
to see Larry Parks again. I watched the movie a second time. Halfway through, I fell asleep, and when I
woke the titles were scrolling up. I was alone in the theater.

When I stepped into the lobby the usherettes were gone and the doors were locked. They'd run for it and
forgotten to tell the projectionist. I let myself out into a bright, pleasant autumn afternoon and saw that
Second Avenue was empty.

Second Avenue is never empty.

The newsstands were closed. The few cars I could see were parked. The theater marquee had been

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 Witness

turned off. I could hear angry auto horns some distance off, and over it the rumble of high-powered
airplane engines. There was a bad smell from somewhere.