Solar Bones. Mike McCormack
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Название: Solar Bones

Автор: Mike McCormack

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Контркультура

Серия:

isbn: 9781786891280

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      that’s it

      and this road got ignored

      it did

      because green was in power

      yes

      because, let me guess again – the ballot boxes in this townland keep coughing up blue votes

      that’s right

      and as long as they do these roads will stay narrow and windy and the pot-holes will deepen

      certainly not much will be spent on straightening them out – slow down here, this is a temporary surface stretch, these chippings could slide out from under you on a bend like this and

      she drove on, keeping a steady speed in the middle of the road, through more bogland stretching away into the darkness, the lights of scattered homesteads winking in the level distance like ships out to sea, miles of bog before stone walls and sod fences began to rise on both sides of the road to close in around the car and

      that’s odd, she said

      what’s odd

      we just passed a single street light in the corner of that field, one street light all on its own in the middle of nowhere and

      I know, did you see what was under the streetlight in the corner of that field

      a few cows

      there was a half ring feeder

      so

      so why would you need a street-light over a half ring feeder

      how would I know

      think about it

      it’s the light

      yes, shining on

      feeding cattle

      exactly

      so someone got a streetlight put in the corner of his field so he can see his way at night to feed them, is that right

      yes, that light has been there for years, one engineer tried to get rid of it but word came down from on high that the light was to stay where it was

      so now we’re stuck with it

      we are

      that’s ridiculous

      it’s not as ridiculous as trying to remove it now, when our engineer tried to do that he was told fairly sharpish that he could forget about making a budget submission the following year if he moved it

      a friggin streetlight, Mairead murmured, in the middle of nowhere

      yes, a streetlight and

      we finally arrived home just as it was coming up to one o’clock in the morning and when we got inside Mairead went straight to bed as she had to be up for her first class at nine but I stayed up for another forty minutes, took a bottle of beer from the fridge and turned on the telly to watch one last news bulletin before turning in for the night, Sky News inevitably, from which I learned that avian flu was threatening to cross the species barrier in Southeast Asia and that the surge of troops in Iraq was likely to continue for the rest of the year, while the search for a serial killer was now underway in some city after the bodies of two prostitutes had been discovered on waste ground – the same old stories at that hour of the night but still somehow new, after which I turned off the television and set aside the urge to check my email and see if Darragh had dropped me a line, because I knew that if I sat down to the computer so late at night I was likely to get swept away for another hour or so on other news sites or on Amazon or something, sliding sideways into one search after another and all of a sudden it would be three in the morning and I’d have wasted two hours better spent asleep, for which I would have to pay the following day in sluggishness and fatigue, so I checked that my keys were on the stand inside the front door and switched off the lights in the hall and the bathroom before turning into bed behind Mairead with my arm around her and her arse tucked into my belly, drifting off on the warmth of her body, asleep within moments, deep and untroubled and so completely free of dreams that

      I got to work shortly after eight o’clock the following morning feeling fresh and sharp, arriving in the council offices just as the two girls at reception, Miriam and Eimear were sorting through the morning mail and pulling on their headsets to answer the phones and there was already a few people in the foyer filling out motor tax forms, trying to get ahead of the queue which would form in half an hour when the counter opened, so I waved to the girls and

      took the stairs up to my office at the end of the hall, the small narrow office with its twelve-foot-high ceilings, where I screwed open the blinds on the window which is high up on the wall behind my desk so that light pours down on me from a great height, often giving me the feeling that I am trapped at the bottom of a well and forever unable to see the sky save for this lighted sliver above, an impression which never fails to colour my mood every morning I step into this room so, with my

      jacket hung on the chair behind me and the cuffs of my shirt rolled up, I swept my gaze over the desk with its computer and its clutter of papers and envelopes and straight away I lined up five jobs for immediate attention – a penstock outside the village of Kilasser which needed to be opened quickly if the recent heavy rainfall was not to build up on the road surface – a procurement order for six hundred tons of polished granite from Roadstone had to be sorted, a couple of invoices to be signed and passed on to the accounts department and lastly, a message on my answering machine from Charlie Halloran that I should give him a call as soon as possible, a message logged at twenty-two minutes past seven, which was early even by Halloran’s standards and which I knew immediately signalled nothing but bad news and while I toyed for a moment with putting it off till later in the morning, I thought to hell with it, better get it out of the way early and not have it hanging over me the whole day, so I dialled him up and cut across him with my cheeriest tone before he could start, saying

      Councillor, you’re on the ball early this morning

      I’m early every morning

      he said bluntly

      which caused me to sit up immediately because there was no doubt now but that he was on the warpath as he said

      you’re not the only one who knows what a day’s work is –

      what can I do for you, Councillor

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