Марсианские хроники
September 2005: The Martian
ItwasnotTom;itwasonlyarunningshapewithafacelikesilvershininginthelightoftheglobesdusteredabouttheplaza.Andasitrushednearer,nearer,itbecamemorefamiliar,untilwhenitreachedthelandingitwasTom!Annaflungupherhands.LaFargehurriedtocastoff.Butalreadyitwastoolate.
Foroutoftheavenueandacrossthesilentplazanowcameoneman,another,awoman,twoothermen,Mr.Spaulding,allrunning.Theystopped,bewildered.Theystaredabout,wantingtogobackbecausethiscouldbeonlyanightmare,itwasquiteinsane.Buttheycameonagain,hesitantly,stopping,starting.
Itwastoolate.Thenight,theevent,wasover.LaFargetwistedthemooringropeinhisfingers.Hewasverycoldandlonely.Thepeopleraisedandputdowntheirfeetinthemoonlight,driftingwithgreatspeed,wide-eyed,untilthecrowd,alltenofthem,haltedatthelanding.Theypeeredwildlydownintotheboat.Theycriedout.
"Don’tmove,LaFarge!"Spauldinghadagun.
Andnowitwasevidentwhathadhappened.Tomflashingthroughthemoonlitstreets,alone,passingpeople.Apolicemanseeingthefiguredartpast.Thepolicemanpivoting,staringattheface,callinganame,givingpursuit"You,stop!"Seeingacriminalface.Allalongtheway,thesamething,menhere,womenthere,nightwatchmen,rocketpilots.Theswiftfiguremeaningeverythingtothem,allidentities,allpersons,allnames.
