[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
about being here in the middle of the night.
"Beats me," Gianfranco said. "You could ask them yourself if you'd managed to
catch them."
"As far as we can see, they might have disappeared by magic, not by your
stupid trap door," the man from the Security Police grumbled. He was righter
than he knew. One of Crosstime Traffic's biggest advantages was that nobody
from this alternate really believed in other worlds. Travel from here to the
home timeline might as well have been magic. With another sigh, the officer
asked, "When did they let you go?"
"This morning. Yesterday morning, I mean." Gianfranco yawned. His mother had
brought espresso for the Security Police officer and for him. Despite the
strong coffee, he was still very tired. Too much had happened with not enough
sleep.
"You should have let us know you were free as soon as they did," the officer
said.
Gianfranco just looked at him. The officer turned red and made a production
out of lighting a cigarette. The Security Police called on you. If you were in
your right mind, you didn't call them. Everybody knew that even Security
Policemen. The only reason Gianfranco's father, a loyal Party man, had told
them Gianfranco was back was to let them know what a bunch of blundering
idiots they were.
After blowing out a long plume of smoke, the man from the Security Police
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
asked, "How did you get back to Milan?"
"I stuck out my thumb," Gianfranco answered. "One truck took me as far as
Bologna. I got another lift there, and it took me here." Hitchhiking was
against the law. That didn't mean people didn't do it, even if it was
dangerous. And if he said he'd taken the train, they could ask who'd seen him
at the station and find out if there were records of his ticket. Thumbing a
ride didn't leave a paper trail.
The officer tried his best: "What were the names of the men who picked you up?
What were they carrying?"
"I think one was Mario and one was Luigi." Gianfranco pulled ordinary names
out of the air or out of what the Crosstime Traffic people had told him while
he was under their drugs. "One of them said he was carrying mushrooms. The
other guy didn't talk much. He just smoked smelly cigars."
"Right." The Security Policeman sucked in smoke himself. He scribbled notes.
Would people start checking to see if a trucker named Luigi or maybe Mario who
smoked cigars was on the road yesterday? Did Crosstime Traffic have men who
looked like Mario and Luigi? He wouldn't have been surprised.
"Anyway, I'm here now and I'm fine," he said.
His father stepped in and added, "No thanks to the Security Police."
"We did what we could, Comrade. We're not done yet," the officer said. "We'll
catch those villains you wait and see."
Gianfranco knew better. His father didn't, but he also didn't seem much
impressed. "I'll believe it when I do see it," he said.
"We work for the safely of the stale and of its people," the Security Police
officer said.
"Shouldn't those be the other way around?" Gianfranco asked.
The officer sent him a hooded look. Who do you think you are, to doubt that
the state comes first? The man didn't ask that out loud, but he might as well
have. In the Italian People's Republic, the question was only too reasonable.
The state had come first here for many, many years. But Gianfranco was just
back from an Italy where that wasn't so, an Italian Republic that left the
people out of its name but took them more seriously than this one did. He
hadn't been able to stay there long, but the attitude rubbed off. Maybe the
drugs should have fixed that too, so he didn't pop off.
"Can we finish this another time, Comrade?" his father asked the officer.
"Gianfranco has to be tired, and so do you. Could you let him have a little
rest, now that he can sleep in his own bed again?"
"Well, all right." The man from the Security Police didn't seem sorry to have
an excuse to go home and Gianfranco's father was a Party wheel, even if he
wasn't a great big one. The officer got to his feet. "I'll report to my
superiors, and we'll see if they have more questions to ask. Ciao." He left
the apartment.
"Grazie, Father," Gianfranco said around another yawn. "I am tired."
"No wonder, after everything you've been through," his father answered.
Gianfranco had been through more and stranger things than his father imagined.
On the other hand, his father's imaginings had to be scarier. "I don't know
what I would have done if you didn't come home safe."
"I'm here. I'm fine except that I'm sleepy," Gianfranco said.
Lying down in his own bed did feel good. But one thought kept him from
sleeping for quite a while. He understood all the reasons why he couldn't stay
in the home timeline. Even so, coming back here after seeing what freedom was [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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about being here in the middle of the night.
"Beats me," Gianfranco said. "You could ask them yourself if you'd managed to
catch them."
"As far as we can see, they might have disappeared by magic, not by your
stupid trap door," the man from the Security Police grumbled. He was righter
than he knew. One of Crosstime Traffic's biggest advantages was that nobody
from this alternate really believed in other worlds. Travel from here to the
home timeline might as well have been magic. With another sigh, the officer
asked, "When did they let you go?"
"This morning. Yesterday morning, I mean." Gianfranco yawned. His mother had
brought espresso for the Security Police officer and for him. Despite the
strong coffee, he was still very tired. Too much had happened with not enough
sleep.
"You should have let us know you were free as soon as they did," the officer
said.
Gianfranco just looked at him. The officer turned red and made a production
out of lighting a cigarette. The Security Police called on you. If you were in
your right mind, you didn't call them. Everybody knew that even Security
Policemen. The only reason Gianfranco's father, a loyal Party man, had told
them Gianfranco was back was to let them know what a bunch of blundering
idiots they were.
After blowing out a long plume of smoke, the man from the Security Police
Page 110
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
asked, "How did you get back to Milan?"
"I stuck out my thumb," Gianfranco answered. "One truck took me as far as
Bologna. I got another lift there, and it took me here." Hitchhiking was
against the law. That didn't mean people didn't do it, even if it was
dangerous. And if he said he'd taken the train, they could ask who'd seen him
at the station and find out if there were records of his ticket. Thumbing a
ride didn't leave a paper trail.
The officer tried his best: "What were the names of the men who picked you up?
What were they carrying?"
"I think one was Mario and one was Luigi." Gianfranco pulled ordinary names
out of the air or out of what the Crosstime Traffic people had told him while
he was under their drugs. "One of them said he was carrying mushrooms. The
other guy didn't talk much. He just smoked smelly cigars."
"Right." The Security Policeman sucked in smoke himself. He scribbled notes.
Would people start checking to see if a trucker named Luigi or maybe Mario who
smoked cigars was on the road yesterday? Did Crosstime Traffic have men who
looked like Mario and Luigi? He wouldn't have been surprised.
"Anyway, I'm here now and I'm fine," he said.
His father stepped in and added, "No thanks to the Security Police."
"We did what we could, Comrade. We're not done yet," the officer said. "We'll
catch those villains you wait and see."
Gianfranco knew better. His father didn't, but he also didn't seem much
impressed. "I'll believe it when I do see it," he said.
"We work for the safely of the stale and of its people," the Security Police
officer said.
"Shouldn't those be the other way around?" Gianfranco asked.
The officer sent him a hooded look. Who do you think you are, to doubt that
the state comes first? The man didn't ask that out loud, but he might as well
have. In the Italian People's Republic, the question was only too reasonable.
The state had come first here for many, many years. But Gianfranco was just
back from an Italy where that wasn't so, an Italian Republic that left the
people out of its name but took them more seriously than this one did. He
hadn't been able to stay there long, but the attitude rubbed off. Maybe the
drugs should have fixed that too, so he didn't pop off.
"Can we finish this another time, Comrade?" his father asked the officer.
"Gianfranco has to be tired, and so do you. Could you let him have a little
rest, now that he can sleep in his own bed again?"
"Well, all right." The man from the Security Police didn't seem sorry to have
an excuse to go home and Gianfranco's father was a Party wheel, even if he
wasn't a great big one. The officer got to his feet. "I'll report to my
superiors, and we'll see if they have more questions to ask. Ciao." He left
the apartment.
"Grazie, Father," Gianfranco said around another yawn. "I am tired."
"No wonder, after everything you've been through," his father answered.
Gianfranco had been through more and stranger things than his father imagined.
On the other hand, his father's imaginings had to be scarier. "I don't know
what I would have done if you didn't come home safe."
"I'm here. I'm fine except that I'm sleepy," Gianfranco said.
Lying down in his own bed did feel good. But one thought kept him from
sleeping for quite a while. He understood all the reasons why he couldn't stay
in the home timeline. Even so, coming back here after seeing what freedom was [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]