Марсианские хроники

           Hereadfromawhitepaper:"Alice,Marguerite,Susan,andJohnHathaway.Diedofunknownvirus.July2007."

           "Thankyou,Williamson."Wilderclosedhiseyes.

           "Nineteenyearsago,sir,"Williamson’shandtrembled.

           "Yes."

           "Thenwhoarethese!"

           "Idon’tknow."

           "Whatareyougoingtodo?"

           "Idon’tknowthateither."

           "Willwetelltheothermen?"

           "Later.Goonwithyourfoodasifnothinghappened."

           "I’mnotveryhungrynow,sir."

           Themealendedwithwinebroughtfromtherocket.Hathawayarose."Atoasttoallofyou;it’sgoodtobewithfriendsagain.Andtomywifeandchildren,withoutwhomIcouldn’thavesurvivedalone.ItisonlythroughtheirkindnessincaringformethatI’velivedon,waitingforyourarrival."Hemovedhiswineglasstowardhisfamily,wholookedbackself-consciously,loweringtheireyesatlastaseveryonedrank.

           Hathawaydrankdownhiswine..Hedidnotcryoutashefellforwardontothetableandslippedtotheground.Severalmeneasedhimtorest.Thedoctorbenttohimandlistened.Wildertouchedthedoctor’sshoulder.Thedoctorlookedupandshookhishead.Wilderkneltandtooktheoldman’shand."Wilder?"Hathaway’svoicewasbarelyaudible."Ispoiledthebreakfast."

           "Nonsense."

           "Saygood-bytoAliceandthechildrenforme."

           "Justamoment,I’llcallthem."

           "No,no,don’t!"gaspedHathaway."Theywouldn’tunderstand.Iwouldn’twantthemtounderstand!Don’t!"

           Wilderdidnotmove.

           Hathawaywasdead.