Blind.Faith 2.0.50. Tomasz Tatum

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      In fact, with the exception of these PowerCranks or the sometimes very large seagoing vessels that could regularly be seen passing through the channel into the river tributary beyond, there was virtually nothing visible from her vantage point that any observer could or would attribute directly to any form of human activity.

      Fishbo.Nelly reached out for the plastic bottle half buried in the sand to the right of her blanket. Without looking, she unscrewed the cap and took a long drink from it. The water in it tasted a bit stale and warm by now, but she savored it nonetheless as she swallowed it in small gulps. She had done the right thing. Her gut instinct had told her earlier that this would be the place to be alone with her thoughts today.

      For her, twilight.Zone was, because of its nature, a perfect place to sit and gather her thoughts, undisturbed by the hustle and bustle of activity that reigned within the tight confines of the city. Owing to the fact that it offered no specific attractions–nor, more importantly, distractions–in the eyes of the vast majority of Libertyville@Esperantia’s denizens and due to its access being only possible by traversing through one of the less attractive fringe neighborhoods, she had come to take for granted the fact that no more than a mere handful of people would ever be underway out here at any given time.

      Solitude was almost guaranteed.

      The end.Zone district, a ramshackle and neglected-looking section of town upon which twilight.Zone bordered, just on the opposite side of the wall, was very often perceived to be Libertyville@Esperantia’s anarchic underbelly and therefore a place to be avoided by most. Given the necessarily close quarters of a city that lay nestled within an enclave in the manner that Libertyville@Esperantia did, contradictions like old and new or prosperity and poverty were never very far apart physically.

      Fishbo.Nelly actually relished the kind of contradictions that in truth defined Libertyville@Esperantia. In fact, it was very likely that the real underlying source of her dissatisfaction with the system was little more than the fact that it, and the people who publicly professed to represent it, seemed intent on denying the validity or even the very existence of these parallel realities. The neighborhood that comprised end.Zone was a place populated largely by day laborers in a colorful medley of various ethnicities and persuasions that was completely at odds with the image that Libertyville@Esperantia strove to project. It certainly wasn’t mainstream in the conservative sense of the word but it possessed a pulse that beat much more palpably than that uptown. And, unsurprisingly, it was dotted by a handful of people who appeared to pride themselves on harboring a rainbow of decidedly bohemian or anti-authoritarian streaks.

      With evening coming on rapidly now, there was still not a soul to be seen anywhere near her on the dunes or on the beach. Fishbo.Nelly was so pleased with her unexpectedly good fortune thus far that she spontaneously resolved to stay put, deciding that she would spend the night in twilight.Zone. It was an appealing thought and she crossed her fingers in the hope that her sojourn beneath the celestial canopy would be as clear and warm as the evening sky had thus far seemed to promise. She would gladly leave everything otherwise associated with so-called civilization behind tonight just for the opportunity to be on her own again, to sit in serene reflection under the infinite dark expanse of a star-studded sky. And with a bit of good fortune, she was excited as the thought popped into her mind, she might even spot a meteor or someone’s failing satellite streaking overhead, blazing its fiery trail through the silent emptiness high above her head.

      For this chance, she was more than willing to accept a few uneven sleeping accommodations or contend with the clouds of bugs which she could see hovering in the distance.

      She would even accept the risk, however minimal, of a nocturnal encounter with various biting bugs, snakes, lizards, scorpions or fleas–or any combination thereof. The only problem might be the mosquitoes. They could be a real deterrent out here but she quickly guessed that they would probably be no problem tonight due to the light but steady sea breeze that was blowing.

      She had even recently been told that armadillos were reputed to live way out here, the thought flashed through her mind. She sat and contemplated this for a short moment while she finished off the contents of her water bottle. She had some serious doubts about whether this stuff about various creatures out here wasn’t just a figment of someone’s overly active imagination. Besides that, although she knew little about them, armadillos were said to be fairly benign creatures. At least as far as she knew, that is. She’d never actually encountered one anywhere so she simply resolved to shrug off the thought.

      Fancy that, she smiled to herself as she adjusted the blanket upon which she sat. Maybe people were just imagining long-eared soup cans? Or hallucinating shiny rabbits? In any case, she had yet to see a single one on any of her excursions out here.

      Fishbo.Nelly was a very individualistic person, fiercely so, obsessed with the notion of finding and achieving the maximum attainable freedom in all things spiritual and, increasingly, all things social. And lately, she had discovered herself often beginning to seriously contemplate just how much she was actually willing to risk in her attempts to achieve true independence.

      She awoke very early the next morning to the damp smell of salt water and fish being carried on the breeze. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear a small gaggle of sea gulls crying excitedly.

      But it wasn’t really this that had awakened her. There was something else that had disturbed her sleep. It was the distinct sound of someone’s inquiring voice nearby. Someone was speaking to her.

      “Hey. Are you OK?”

      Off to her right, upon opening her eyes, she could see that a young man with a serious and very baffled expression on his face was crouched down low on his hands and knees, cautiously edging a tiny bit closer to get a better look at her.

      This fellow had a bit of a deliberately unkempt-looking appearance, thus lending him a look that was, even if it was perhaps unintentional on his part, stylish in her estimation. She saw that he was dressed casually, wearing dark-dyed denims, canvas sneakers and a black t-shirt. TAKE ME HOME! was the message spelled in bold white capital lettering across the front of his t-shirt.

      Although the question he had posed, in her opinion, obviously masked a tangible degree of helplessness on his part at finding her here, and thus seemed rather foreign if not completely idiotic to her at this particular moment, Fishbo.Nelly was not really sure that she was honestly able to answer with an unqualified yes. In fact, she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to answer at all yet. While she was instantly wide awake, at least from a mental viewpoint, she was still very, very tired. She hadn’t expected to awake feeling this way after spending only one night on the dunes.

      Her neck was stiff as a board. Her back ached. Her arms and legs felt slightly numb.

      An incredibly fine layer of white sand, deposited overnight by the breeze, had covered her and her blanket as well as everything else while she slept.

      She propped herself up on her elbows and looked around. She decided that she wanted to respond to his question after all. As she swallowed, though, she could feel salt and sand in her mouth and in her throat. She withdrew her hand from under the blanket with which she was still covered and scratched absent-mindedly at her ear with her left index finger. It, too, was full of sand. Sand seemed to pour down everywhere as she then finally sat up halfway and brushed her hair back with her open hand. There was sand everywhere: in her T-shirt, in her hair, in the corners of her eyes, in her nostrils and probably in the crevice of her butt. This cloud of fine white sand was quite obviously endowed with both a will and a way to cover or infiltrate anything and everything.

      More annoying to her than the sand or the momentary stiffness of her bones that she supposed were СКАЧАТЬ