The Rocket Man

Начало книги

The electrical fireflies were hovering above Mother's dark hair to light her path. She stood in her bedroom door looking out at me as I passed in the silent hall. «You will help me keep him here this time, won't you?» she asked.

«I guess so,» I said.

«Please.» The fireflies cast moving bits of light on her white face. «This time he mustn't go away again.»

«All right,» I said, after standing there a moment. «But it won't do any good; it's no use.»

She went away, and the fireflies, on their electric circuits, fluttered after her like an errant constellation, showing her how to walk in darkness. I heard her say, faintly, «We've got to try, anyway.»

Other fireflies followed me to my room. When the weight of my body cut a circuit in the bed, the fireflies winked out. It was midnight, and my mother and I waited, our rooms separated by darkness, in bed. The bed began to rock me and sing to me. I touched a switch; the singing and rocking stopped. I didn't want to sleep. I didn't want to sleep at all.

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