День триффидов
The Groping City
Mymotherandfatherweredead,myoneattempttomarryhadmiscarriedsomeyearsbefore,andtherewasnoparticularpersondependentonme.And,curiously,whatIfoundthatIdidfeel—withaconsciousnessthatitwasagainstwhatIoughttobefeeling—wasrelease...
Itwasn’tjustthebrandy,foritpersisted.Ithinkitmayhavecomefromthesenseoffacingsomethingquitefreshandnewtome.Alltheoldproblems,thestaleones,bothpersonalandgeneral,hadbeensolvedbyonemightyslash.Heavenaloneknewasyetwhatothersmightarise—anditlookedasthoughtherewouldbeplentyofthem—buttheywouldbenew.Iwasemergingasmyownmaster,andnolongeracog.ItmightwellbeaworldfullofhorrorsanddangersthatIshouldhavetoface,butIcouldtakemyownstepstodealwithit—IwouldnolongerbeshovedhitherandthitherbyforcesandintereststhatIneitherunderstoodnorcaredabout.
No,itwasn’taltogetherthebrandy,forevennow,yearsafterward,Icanstillfeelsomethingofit—thoughpossiblythebrandydidoversimplifythingsalittlejustthen.
Thentherewas,too,thelittlequestionofwhattodonext:howandwheretostartonthisnewlife.ButIdidnotletthatworrymealotforthepresent.Idrankupandwentoutofthehoteltoseewhatthisstrangeworldhadtooffer.
