Марсианские хроники
October 2026: The Million-Year Picnic
It’ssillytothinkthere’lleverbeanymorerockets.Exceptone,perhaps,ifEdwardsandhiswifegetthroughwiththeirship."
Heputhistinyradiotohisearagain.Aftertwominteshedroppedhishandasyouwoulddroparag.
"It’soveratlast,"hesaidtoMom."Theradiojustwentofftheatomicbeam.Everyotherworldstation’sgone.Theydwindleddowntoacoupleinthelastfewyears.Nowtheair’scompletelysilent.It’llprobablyremainsilent."
"Forhowlong?"askedRobert.
"Maybe—yourgreat-grandchildrenwillhearitagain,"saidDad.Hejustsatthere,andthechildrenwerecaughtinthecenterofhisaweanddefeatandresignationandacceptance.
Finallyheputtheboatoutintothecanalagain,andtheycontinuedinthedirectioninwhichtheyhadoriginallystarted.
Itwasgettinglate.Alreadythesunwasdownthesky,andaseriesofdeadcitieslayaheadofthem.
Dadtalkedveryquietlyandgentlytohissons.Manytimesinthepasthehadbeenbrisk,distant,removedfromthem,butnowhepattedthemontheheadwithjustawordandtheyfeltit.
"Mike,pickacity."
"What,Dad?"
"Pickacity,Son.Anyoneofthesecitieswepass."
"Allright,"saidMichael."HowdoIpick?"
"Picktheoneyoulikethemost.You,too,RobertandTim.Pickthecityyoulikebest."
"IwantacitywithMartiansinit,"saidMichael.
"You’llhavethat,"saidDad."Ipromise."Hislipswereforthechildren,buthiseyeswereforMom.
Theypassedsixcitiesintwentyminutes.
