Марсианские хроники
June 2001: — and the Moon Be Still as Bright
Theywerewaitingforsomethingtostirinthedeadcity,somegrayformtorise,someancient,ancestralshapetocomegallopingacrossthevacantseabottomonanancient,armoredsteelofimpossiblelineage,ofunbelievablederivation.
Spenderfilledthestreetswithhiseyesandhismind.Peoplemovedlikebluevaporlightsonthecobbledavenues,andtherewerefaintmurmursofsound,andoddanimalsscurryingacrossthegray-redsands.Eachwindowwasgivenapersonwholeanedfromitandwavedslowly,asifunderatimelesswater,atsomemovingforminthefathomsofspacebelowthemoon-silveredtowers.Musicwasplayedonsomeinnerear,andSpenderimaginedtheshapeofsuchinstrumentstoevokesuchmusic.Thelandwashaunted.
"Hey!"shoutedBiggs,standingtall,hishandsaroundhisopenmouth."Hey,youpeopleinthecitythere,you!"
"Biggs!"saidthecaptain.
Biggsquieted.
Theywalkedforwardonatiledavenue.Theywereallwhisperingnow,foritwaslikeenteringavastopenlibraryoramausoleuminwhichthewindlivedandoverwhichthestarsshone.Thecaptainspokequietly.Hewonderedwherethepeoplehadgone,andwhattheyhadbeen,andwhotheirkingswere,andhowtheyhaddied.Andhewondered,quietlyaloud,howtheyhadbuiltthiscitytolasttheagesthrough,andhadtheyevercometoEarth?WeretheyancestorsofEarthMententhousandyearsremoved?Andhadtheylovedandhatedsimilarlovesandhates,anddonesimilarsillythingswhensillythingsweredone?
Nobodymoved.
