Марсианские хроники
August 2002: Night Meeting
"I’mjustlooking.I’mjustexperiencing.Ifyoucan’ttakeMarsforwhatsheis,youmightaswellgobacktoEarth.Everything’scrazyuphere,thesoil,theair,thecanals,thenatives(Ineversawanyyet,butIhearthey’rearound),theclocks.Evenmyclockactsfunny.Eventimeiscrazyuphere.SometimesIfeelI’mhereallbymyself,nooneelseonthewholedamnplanet.I’dtakebetsonit.SometimesIfeelabouteightyearsold,mybodysqueezedupandeverythingelsetall.Jesus,it’sjusttheplaceforanoldman.Keepsmealertandkeepsmehappy.YouknowwhatMarsis?It’slikeathingIgotforChristmasseventyyearsago—don’tknowifyoueverhadone—theycalledthemkaleidoscopes,bitsofcrystalandclothandbeadsandprettyjunk.Youheldituptothesunlightandlookedinthroughatit,andittookyourbreathaway.Allthepatterns!Well,that’sMars.Enjoyit.Don’taskittobenothingelsebutwhatitis.Jesus,youknowthathighwayrightthere,builtbytheMartians,isoversixteencenturiesoldandstillingoodcondition?That’sonedollarandfiftycents,thanksandgoodnight."
Tomasdroveoffdowntheancienthighway,laughingquietly.
Itwasalongroadgoingintodarknessandhillsandheheldtothewheel,nowandagainreachingintohislunchbucketandtakingoutapieceofcandy.Hehadbeendrivingsteadilyforanhour,withnoothercarontheroad,nolight,justtheroadgoingunder,thehum,theroar,andMarsoutthere,soquiet.
