Марсианские хроники
November 2005: The Off Season
"Besthotdogsontwoworlds!FirstmanonMarswithahot-dogstand!Thebestonionsandchiliandmustard!Youcan’tsayI’mnotalert.Here’sthemainhighways,overthereisthedeadcityandthemineraldeposits.ThosetrucksfromEarthSettlement101willhavetopassheretwenty-fourhoursaday!DoIknowmylocations,ordon’tI?"
Hiswifelookedatherfingernails.
"Youthinkthosetenthousandnew-typeworkrocketswillcomethroughtoMars?"shesaidatlast.
"Inamonth,"hesaidloudly."Whyyoulooksofunny?"
"Idon’ttrustthoseEarthpeople,"shesaid."I’llbelieveitwhenIseethemtenthousandrocketsarrivewiththeonehundredthousandMexicansandChineseonthem."
"Customers."Helingeredontheword."Onehundredthousandhungrypeople."
"If,"saidhiswifeslowly,watchingthesky,"there’snoatomicwar.Idon’ttrustnoatombombs.There’ssomanyofthemonEarthnow,younevercantell."
"Ah,"saidSam,andwentonsweeping.
Fromthecornersofhiseyeshecaughtablueflicker.Somethingfloatedintheairgentlybehindhim.Heheardhiswifesay,"Sam.Afriendofyourstoseeyou."
Samwhirledtoseethemaskseeminglyfloatinginthewind.
"Soyou’rebackagain!"AndSamheldhisbroomlikeaweapon.
Themasknodded.Itwascutfrompaleblueglassandwasfittedaboveathinneck;underwhichwereblowinglooserobesofthinyellowsilk.Fromthesilktwomeshsilverbandsappeared.
