（外文电子版资料）Peter Watts - Fractals.pdf

FRACTALS (or: Reagan Assured Gorbachev of Help Against Space Aliens) Trespassing? Trespassing? You arrogant slant-eyed alien motherfucker, I used to live here! * * * How long have I wanted to do that? How many years have I hated them, dreamt that my fists were smashing those faces into shapes even less human? I cant remember. The anger is chronic. The anger has always been chronic. And impotent, until now. The pain in my knuckles throbs like a distant badge of honour. Its cold. The rage is gone, absorbed somehow by the mud and the unlit piles of lumber and masonry scattered around me. I can barely focus on my surroundings. The shapes keep changing, hulking angular monstrosities shifting on all sides. Only the sign at the front of the lot, the sign he kept pointing at, refuses to move. I can barely see him in the dark. Hes just a few meters away, but the shadows are so black and he doesnt move at all. What if I killed him? What if I— There. He moved a bit. Its okay, I didnt kill him, hes not dead— Yet. What if he dies here in the mud? (So what if he does? Lots more where he came from.) No. I don t mean that. I cant believe I ever did, I mean, what if I, what if he dies here, what if— What if he lives, and identifies me? 1 First published in On Spec 7(1), 1995: 31-41. 2 Nimbus A couple of steps forward. A couple more. Okay, he was about here when he saw me, and then he moved over there and started shouting— He couldnt have seen my face. Even when he came closer, its so dark hed only have seen a silhouette, and then he was right in front of me and— I can get away. I can get away. Oh Jesus God I can t believe I did this— Okay.