Читаем Fall and Rise полностью

“I’ve only one,” shorter man says. “Maybe you won’t like it, but we’ve proven we’re civilized here without the other person immediately thinking we’re full of disapproval, yes?”

“Fine by me,” I say.

“Good. Then what made you change? Conniving to the army, lying to the judge, that injured man, because you say you’re much different today.”

“Life — the maturing process — the over and over again — ideas. Gradually realizing what I was doing and did. You know — the repercussions — on me and others. I mean, I still lie — little ones to get by, to others and myself. But the big ones — well you know, they’re more obvious and harmful, to me and to others, so if you continue to do them — if I do — cheat, bullshit — well you know, it’s increasingly obvious you can’t. But if you do after you know how obvious it is and that you shouldn’t, then it’s also increasingly obvious to others or should be — yourself included — that they get bigger and bigger these lies and just acting like a prick, and some more obvious and harmful than others — no, that’s not it. I know what I want to say but can’t articulate it, though it should be obvious what I mean by now, or fairly.”

“I think I see. Okay, I can figure out the rest myself, so my case is closed too.”

“You’ll clue me in later if we’re still here together?” ponytailed man says and shorter man says “If you don’t freeze as you said, yes.”

We’ve inched up — at least I didn’t know we had — to the car and I’m about to say goodnight to them when the ponytailed man says “Look — on the floor by the soda can — a quarter.”

“You saw it first, you take it,” I say.

“If you believe in good luck finding coins, that one’s bad.”

“Oh, I’m not superstitious and you never know when you might need some extra change. You guys first? Sure? Sir?” to the shorter man.

“Not me. This time I agree with my new friend completely.”

“Besides, talking about being unsuperstitious, I’ve a lucky coin jar at home — even have a five-dollar bill in it — but I didn’t tell you this?”

“Not tonight.”

“It’s a stupid reference — really, unrelated. Not unrelated, just stupid. Anyway, money I’ve found over the past ten years, not that it’s brought me good luck, but who knows? According to you two I could be dead right now without it, and for ten or fewer years. And then — well I wonder what you two would be doing now if I were. Everything else would be the same, though of course my shadow wouldn’t be here and footprints if there are any, and other small to smaller things: cigarette butts I might’ve squashed with my shoes and so on — carbon dioxide in the air or a little less oxygen because of me, but I know next to nothing about those. But the car would be here, bus, weather, etcetera — that policeman, with maybe just the slightest of faintest chances my absence of from an hour to ten years would’ve changed any of that. Probably, even without me, you’d be looking at this car and possibly from this or a nearby spot. Or more probably, since you’d”—to the ponytailed man—“have ended up just as cold and I wouldn’t be keeping you here with my yakking, you’d both be inside somewhere talking about the car, or on your respective ways home, if they’re not in the same direction. Or maybe they’re even in the same building or on the same floor for all you know, though that’s much less likely, unless it’s one of those twenty to thirty apartments to a floor buildings, if they run that large. No? All wrong?”

“I’ll go along about the shadow and dioxide,” ponytailed man says. “As for this guy living in my building, except if he moved in today or had been hiding all this time—”