День триффидов
World Narrowing
Once—notthatyear,notthenext,butlateron—IstoodinPiccadillyCircusagain,lookingroundatthedesolationandtryingtore-createinmymind’seyethecrowdsthatonceswarmedthere.Icouldnolongerdoit.Eveninmymemorytheylackedreality.Therewasnotinctureofthemnow.TheyhadbecomeasmuchabackclothofhistoryastheaudiencesintheRomanColosseumorthearmyoftheAssyrians,and,somehow,justasfarremovedfromme.Thenostalgiathatcreptovermesometimesinthequietbourswasabletomovemetomoreregretthanthecrumblingsceneitself.WhenIwasbymyselfinthecountryIcouldrecallthepleasantnessoftheformerlife:amongthescabrous,slowlyperishingbuildingsIseemedabletorecallonlythemuddle,thefrustration,theunaimeddrive,theall-pervadingclangorofemptyvessels,andIbecameuncertainhowmuchwebadlost...
MyfirsttentativetripthereItookalone,returningwithcasesoftriffidbolts,paper,engineparts,theBraillebooksandwritingmachinethatDennissomuchdesired,theluxuriesofdrinks,candies,records,andyetmorebooksfortherestofus.AweeklaterJosellacamewithmeanamorepracticalsearchforclothing,notonly,orevenchiefly,fortheadultsofthepartysomuchasforMary’sbabyandtheonesheherselfwasnowexpecting.Itupsether,anditremainedtheonlyvisitshemade.
ItwasattheendofthefourthyearthatImademylasttrip,andfoundthattherewerenowriskswhichIwasnotjustifiedintaking.
