Марсианские хроники
June 2001: — and the Moon Be Still as Bright
Well,soonafterIstartedkillingpeopleIrealizedtheywerejustfoolsandIshouldn’tbekillingthem.Butitwastoolate.Icouldn’tgoonwithitthen,soIcameupherewhereIcouldlietomyselfsomemoreandgetangry,tobuilditallupagain."
"Isitbuiltup?"
"Notveryhigh.Enough."
Thecaptainconsideredhiscigarette."Whydidyoudoit?"
Spenderquietlylaidhispistolathisfeet."BecauseI’veseenthatwhattheseMartianshadwasjustasgoodasanythingwe’lleverhopetohave.Theystoppedwhereweshouldhavestoppedahundredyearsago.I’vewalkedintheircitiesandIknowthesepeopleandI’dbegladtocallthemmyancestors."
"Theyhaveabeautifulcitythere."Thecaptainnoddedatoneofseveralplaces.
"It’snotthatalone.Yes,theircitiesaregood.Theyknewhowtoblendartintotheirliving.It’salwaysbeenathingapartforAmericans.Artwassomethingyoukeptinthecrazyson’sroomupstairs.ArtwassomethingyoutookinSundaydoses,mixedwithreligion,perhaps.Well,theseMartianshaveartandreligionandeverything."
"Youthinktheyknewwhatitwasallabout,doyou?"
"Formymoney."
"Andforthatreasonyoustartedshootingpeople."
"WhenIwasakidmyfolkstookmetovisitMexicoCity.I’llalwaysrememberthewaymyfatheracted—loudandbig.Andmymotherdidn’tlikethepeoplebecausetheyweredarkanddidn’twashenough.Andmysisterwouldn’ttalktomostofthem.Iwastheonlyonereallylikedit.
