Маргарэт снова громко расхохоталась.
– Ну, это просто потому что я… – Мансур пытался найти слова, чтобы оправдаться и доказать, что он не импотент, но Маргарэт, смеясь, воскликнула:
– А я отключила своего робота два года назад! Думала, я одна на всей планете такая ненормальная!
Мансур снова схватил её и поцеловал.
– Пойдём! – сказал он. – У меня, конечно, не бело-золотой уровень, но есть мягкая широкая постель!
– Нет! – игриво отозвалась Маргарэт. – Никакой постели! Говоришь, на нижнем уровне нет видеонаблюдения? В переулок!!
Схватив его за ворот пальто, Маргарэт с решительностью спортсменки, настроенной на победу, потащила последнего и единственного писателя Земли в темноту.
The person needs the person
He went past the sign of the retro-cafe «XX century», which neon lights went off a long time ago, delayed for a second, looking into an ancient advertising poster with a funny slogan – and headed further down the street, to the center of the city. High above his head, almost silently fly-mobiles passed by. People long since did not need to walk – except on a fitness club track. Yet, Mansour loved such lonely novelty walks.
Suddenly an unexpected presence violated the usual landscape of a deserted street. Mansour didn’t understand what happened immediately. There was just something wrong with the surrounding landscape; some movement ahead – not a hologram or a fly-mobile, but a person!
Bewildered, Mansour stopped and for a few seconds could not gather his thoughts. In these moments, he had to reconfigure his perception. Only then, he allowed himself to believe that another person could walk through the empty streets of the lower level… only then the object ahead acquired a clear outline.
A woman. In a long luxurious coat and in high heel boots of an ancient style – made on order. Deep down inside, Mansour had an appreciation of foot fetishism. While in virtual reality, he often ordered himself similar female images. Was it a hallucination? No, she had a bouquet of yellow flowers in her hands. He wouldn’t have imagined it even in a nightmare.
The stranger turned to the cross street. Her gait was firm. When she noticed Mansour, she didn’t look disturbed, but rather annoyed. Struck not so much by her beauty, but by the extraordinary loneliness in her eyes, Mansour followed her like a piece of metal behind a strong magnet.
For a couple of minutes, they walked silently. Finally, a stranger asked loudly and clearly:
«Do you like these flowers?»
Mansour did not expect such a question and to his surprise, answered honestly:
«No, I don’t like it! I love red roses».
«It’s good», abruptly the woman cast the flowers around the corner of the neighboring building on the ground.
Behind the building chirred cyber cleaners.
«Are you a member of the reconstruction club?» Mansour asked, having acquired the ability to think logically again.
«Which club?» the stranger asked. Then she pondered turned to Mansur and said: «Anyhow, who cares?»
She took Mansour by the hand and, looking into his eyes, said:
«Let’s walk! In our time, people have completely forgotten what it feels like…»
«Sure thing!» Mansour happily agreed. «We are just near a pond. So you don’t know anything about the reconstruction club. We live in the past. At least, a couple of weeks a year, we try to live as if we are the people who lived in the twentieth century. An obsolete era that was full of romance… Imagine – there were no fly-mobiles and Artificial Intelligence… Here, on the lower level, there is almost no this ubiquitous CCTV – quite like in those days.
