SFworld 版 (精华区)
发信人: by (春天的小懒虫), 信区: SFworld
标 题: 2010 (29)
发信站: 哈工大紫丁香 (Wed Oct 6 14:53:35 1999), 转信
29
Emergence
Sasha's latest edict read:
RUSSLISH BULLETIN #8
Subject: Tovarishch (tovarish)
To our American guests:
Frankly. pals. I can't remember when I was last addressed by this term.
To any twenty-first century Russian, it's way back there with the battle-
ship Potemkin - a reminder of cloth caps and red flags and Vladimir
Ilich haranguing the workers from the steps of railway carriages.
Ever since I was a kid it's been bratets or druzhok-take your choice.
You're welcome.
Comrade Kovalev
Floyd was still chuckling over this notice when Vasili
Orlov joined him as he floated through the lounge/observa-
tion deck on his way to the bridge.
`What amazes me, tovarishch, is that Sasha ever found time
to study anything besides engineering physics. Yet he's
always quoting poems and plays I don't even know, and he
speaks better English than - well, Walter.'
`Because he switched to science, Sasha is - what do you
say - the black sheep of the family. His father was a
professor of English at Novosibirsk. Russian was only
allowed in the house Monday to Wednesday, Thursday to
Saturday it was English.'
`And Sundays?'
`Oh, French or German, alternate weeks.'
'Now I know exactly what you mean by nekulturny; fits
me like a glove. Does Sasha feel guilty about his ... defec-
tion? And with such a background, why did he ever become
an engineer,'
`At Novosibirsk, you soon learn who are the serfs and
who are the aristocrats. Sasha was an ambitious young man,
as well as a brilliant one.'
`Just like you, Vasili.'
`Et tu, Brute! You see, I can quote Shakespeare as well -
Bozhe moi! - what was that?'
Floyd was unlucky; he was floating with his back to the
observation window, and saw nothing at all. When he
twisted around, seconds later, there was only the familiar
view of Big Brother, bisecting the giant disk of Jupiter, just
as it had done ever since their arrival.
But to Vasili, for a moment that would be imprinted on
his memory forever, that sharp-edged outline held a comp-
letely different, and wholly impossible, scene. It was as if a
window had suddenly been opened onto another universe.
The vision lasted for less than a second, before his in-
voluntary blink reflex cut it off. He was looking into a field
not of stars, but of suns, as if into the crowded heart of a
galaxy, or the core of a globular cluster. In that moment,
Vasili Orlov lost forever the skies of Earth. From now on
they would seem intolerably empty; even mighty Orion
and glorious Scorpio would be scarcely noticeable patterns
of feeble sparks, not worthy of a second glance.
When he dared to open his eyes again, it was all gone. No
- not completely. At the very centre of the now-restored
ebon rectangle, a faint star was still shining.
But a star did not move as one watched. Orlov blinked
again, to clear his watering eyes. Yes, the movement was
real; he was not imagining it.
A meteor? It was some indication of Chief Scientist Vasili
Orlov's state of shock that several seconds passed before he;
remembered that meteors were impossible in airless space.
Then it blurred suddenly into a streak of light, and within
a few heartbeats had vanished beyond the edge of Jupiter.
By this time, Vasili had recovered his wits and was once
more the cool, dispassionate observer.
Already he had a good estimate of the object's trajectory.
There could be no doubt; it was aimed directly at Earth.
--
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