The Cloud Atlas полностью

What's the difference, anyway, between what Ronnie is doing- slipping in and out of consciousness, traveling from one world to another-and my falling asleep? My dreaming of flight, and then recounting my banal dream after I awake? I don't know. I don't dream of flying. I did it once, really did it, just me and my arms and legs and the air, and I've never wanted to do it again.

IT WAS LATE WHEN I got back on base after my dinner with Lily. Something-or everything-about my “goodbye” dinner with Lily made me desperate to talk with someone, even Father Pabich, though he would probably have treated the whole matter as something worthy of confession.

I couldn't find anyone to talk to, but I couldn't see myself going to sleep, either. I went over to Gurley's Quonset hut. The sentry said nothing; he didn't even look surprised. He let me in through what Gurley persisted in calling the “back door” and then locked everything behind me. I banged my away across the floor in the dark to the small office in the rear. I had been granted access to the building in Gurley's absence, but not the office. He had, however, given me a small desk outside. I sat down and felt around for the desk lamp.

Suddenly, the hut's massive overhead lights clunked on.

“Belk!” Gurley shouted as the door shut behind him. “Working in the dark? Or sleeping?” By the time he reached me, I had some paper out and was pretending to take notes. “If there's one thing I hate more than incompetence, Belk, it's incompe tents trying to suck up.” He clapped a hand on my back. “You've been studying?” He wasn't entirely angry. “You'll be forgiven for this shameless display-working all night, it would seem-if you actually came up with something.”

Came up with something: maybe I'm guessing at the rest of the dialogue, but I know he said this. And “came up with something,” meant just that: invented. This was Alaska, after all, where chaplains swore like stevedores and Eskimo women could tease your entire past from your hand. It was all imaginary, all true. I thought about dinner with Lily. I thought about what Gurley wanted to hear. And then I said what I knew.

“I know where the next balloon will land.”

Gurley's presence changed the acoustics of a conversation; his being there could make your voice sound terribly small, or terribly ominous. Or in my case, both.

He didn't reply. I breathed deeply enough to get the memory of what Lily had whispered echoing in my ear once again. “Shu-yak,” I said.

“What?” he asked.

“Shuyak,” I repeated, working out the pronunciation and realizing as I did what Lily had said.

Gurley had been yawning and inattentive, but now he focused: “Along the Aleutians, isn't it?” I nodded, though I had no idea. I wasn't even sure it was a real place: perhaps Shuyak was the imaginary province of Yup'ik seers. Maybe it was simply Yup'ik for goodbye. I felt ill. “Easy enough to see why you guessed there,” Gurley said. But he was appreciative, not scolding. “I've guessed at that, too. Let's look.” He unlocked his office and went over to the wall map. I entered and sat. “Truth is, Aleutians don't matter to many people other than the Aleutians. Who, as it happens, are no longer there, poor dears.” He pointed to southeast Alaska. “That's why the Navy has thoughtfully relocated them here.” He frowned, pointed to a spot on the mainland. “No, here. Somewhere. There's plenty of Aleuts to go around. Apparently, the Japs took some, too, in fact. Probably carted them off to some zoo in Tokyo.” He studied his lip with his tongue as he drew his finger along to the end of the Aleutian chain. “Anyway there's nobody left out there, save some poor Jap soldiers, perhaps, hiding in caves out on Kiska.” He sat down and began studying his palms. I wondered if Lily had ever read his life through his hands, and if she had, what she made of the jagged scars that Gurley's pushpin doodles left behind. “It's American soil, but frozen, barren soil, so who cares?” Gurley continued. “I hope all their balloons land there. In any case, I can't find it. Any other ideas?”

“No,” I said, studying the map. Why had I given myself over to Lily like that? Here I was, spouting some nonsense she'd purred.

“No?” Gurley said, turning away. “Such was my supposition.”

I sat up. “Listen-Shuyak-that's where the next balloon will land,” I said, my insistence stemming more from an automatic desire to counter Gurley than anything else.