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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] quite close to me, complacency in its heavy-lidded eyes. Don t look at me like that, I say to a species which vanished centuries ago. Who are you to laugh? I think that I will never know the truth. The Duchess might have been playing with the cyber again. Her death might have been a miscalculation. Or the Baron might have planned it, have arranged the whole evening around it. I would like to know. I think of something Hwang-li is supposed to have said. Never confuse the record with the truth. It will always last longer. I am ashamed that I did nothing for the Duchess, accuse myself of cowardice, tears dropping from my cheeks onto the smooth flesh of my palms. In the historical record, I tell myself, I will list her death as a political assassination. And it will be remembered that way. Next to me Svanneshal stiffens and I know Juliet has lifted the knife. This is truly the end of her; the stab wounds will prevent her re-use and her voice is painfully sweet, like a song. One moment of hesitation, but that moment is itself a complete world. It lives onstage with the simulants, it lives with the mob in their brief and bitter lives, it lives where the wealthy drape themselves in jewels. If I wished to find any of them, I could look in that moment. But how, I ask the snake, would I know which was which? The End. Notes and proofing history AK #33 Scanned with preliminary proofing by A/NN\A November 22nd, 2007 v1.0 from : Best SF of the Year #15, Terry Carr, ed. 1986. This was Karen Joy Fowler's first published story. Originally published in Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine, Mar 1985. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |
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