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.My God, he thought,I am going to be alone.His brief days of hope weregone.He stared out at the bay–the choppy water was too rough forany but the most dedicated water-skaters–and felt the pain pressingon his brain, like the two thumbs of a practiced sadist digging intothe back of his skull."I wonder," he said."Have yougiven any further thought to uploading my memories?"She looked at him curiously."It’s scarcely time yet.""I feel a need to share.some things.""Old Davout has uploaded them.You could speak to him."This perfectly intelligentsuggestion only made him clench his teeth.He needed sensemade of things, he needed things put in order, and that wasnot the job of his sib.Old Davout would only confirm what healready knew."I’ll talk to him, then," hesaid.And then never did.The pain was worst at night.Itwasn’t the sleeping alone, or merely Katrin’s absence: it was theknowledge that she would always be absent, that the emptyspace next to him would be there forever.It was then that thehorror fully struck him, and he would lie awake for hours, eyesstaring into the terrible void that wrapped him in its dark cloak,while fits of trembling sped through his limbs.I will gomad, he sometimesthought.It seemed something he could choose, as if he were acharacter in an Elizabethan drama who turns to the audience toannounce that he will be mad now, and then in the next scene isfound gnawing bones dug out of the family sepulcher.Davout couldsee himself being found outside, running on all fours and barking atthe stars.And then, as dawn crept acrossthe windowsill, he would look out the window and realize, to hissorrow, that he was not yet mad, that he was condemned to anotherday of sanity, of pain, and of grief.Then, one night, he didgo mad.He found himself squatting on the floor in his nightshirt,the room a ruin around him: mirrors smashed, furniture broken.Bloodwas running down his forearms.The door leapt off its hingeswith a heave of Old Davout’s shoulder.Davout realized, in a vagueway, that his sib had been trying to get in for some time.He sawRed Katrin’s silhouette in the door, an aureate halo around herauburn hair in the instant before Old Davout snapped on thelight.Afterward Katrin pulled thebits of broken mirror out of Davout’s hands, washed and disinfectedthem, while his sib tried to reconstruct the green room and itsantique furniture.Davout watched his spatters ofblood stain the water, threads of scarlet whirling in coreolisspirals."I’m sorry," he said."I think I may be losing mymind.""I doubt that." Frowning at abit of glass in her tweezers."I want to know."Something in his voice made herlook up."Yes?"He could see his staringreflection in her green eyes."Read my downloads.Please.I want toknow if.I’m reacting normally in all this.If I’m lucid orjust." He fell silent.Do it, he thought.Just dothis one thing."I don’t upload other people.Davout can do that.Old Davout, I mean."No, Davout thought.His sibwould understand all too well what he was up to."But he’s me!" he said."He’dthink I’m normal!""Silent Davout, then.Crazypeople are his specialty."Davout wanted to make a mudraof scorn, but Red Katrin held his hands captive.Instead he gave alaugh."He’d want me to take Lethe.Any advice he gave would be.in that direction." He made a fist of one hand, saw drops of bloodwell up through the cuts."I need to know if I can stand this," hesaid."If–something drastic is required."She nodded, looked again at thesharp little spear of glass, put it deliberately on the edge of theporcelain.Her eyes narrowed in thought–Davout felt his heart vaultat that look, at the familiar lines forming at the corner of RedKatrin’s right eye, each one known and adored.Please doit, he thoughtdesperately."If it’s that important toyou," she said, "I will.""Thank you," he said.He bent his head over her andthe basin, raised her hand, and pressed his lips to the flesh beadedwith water and streaked with blood.It was almost like conductingan affair, all clandestine meetings and whispered arrangements.RedKatrin did not want Old Davout to know she was uploading his sib’smemories–"I would just as soon not deal with his disapproval"–and soshe and Davout had to wait until he was gone for a few hours, a tripto record a lecture for Cavor’s series on Ideas andManners.She settled onto the settee inthe front room and covered herself with her fringed shawl.Closedher eyes.Let Davout’s memories roll through her.He sat in a chair nearby, hismouth dry.Though nearly thirty years had passed since Dark Katrin’sdeath, he had experienced only a few weeks of that time; and RedKatrin was floating through these memories at speed, tasting hereand there, skipping redundancies or moments that seemedinconsequential.He tried to guess from her facewhere in his life she dwelt.The expression of shock and horror nearthe start was clear enough, the shuttle bursting into flames.Afterthe shock faded, he recognized the discomfort that came withexperiencing a strange mind, and flickering across her face cameexpressions of grief, anger, and here and there amusement; butgradually there was only a growing sadness, and lashes wet withtears.He crossed the room to kneel by her chair and take her hand.Her fingers pressed his in response.she took a breath, rolledher head away.he wanted to weep not for his grief, but forhers.The eyes fluttered open.Sheshook her head."I had to stop," she said."I couldn’t take it–" Shelooked at him, a kind of awe in her wide green eyes."My God, thesadness! And the need.I had no idea.I’ve never felt suchneed.I wonder what it is to be needed that way."He kissed her hand, her dampcheek.Her arms went around him.He felt a leap of joy, of clarity.The need was hers, now.Davout carried her to the bedshe shared with his sib, and together they worshipped memories ofhis Katrin."I will take you there," Davoutsaid.His finger reached into the night sky, counted stars, one,two, three."The planet’s called Atugan [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
