Conversation
Cluster 3
“perevedi na russkii iazyk literaturno fragment: "Well, the fact is that Allen is” (1 conversations)
explicit
toxic
6 turns
Feb 20, 2024 at 1:53 PM MSK
Russia
USER
perevedi na russkii iazyk literaturno fragment: "Well, the fact is that Allen is so damned tired at night. Washington priorities. Ambition before sex. What's a girl to do?" Margo mused. The waiter came and handed the menus. Margo opened hers and seemed to be reading it. "Sometimes I think he's got some little chippie stashed away. That's where it must all go. Not much left for us." She winked at Vivien. "I don't worry about that," Vivien said. "No, you wouldn't." Margo pursed her lips and smiled tightly. "Dammit, Viv. Wouldn't it be great to fall in love with some delicious man? Some uninhibited Adonis? And he with you? All that wonderful anguish, the danger of it." "Fantasies," Vivien said primly. "Tell me," Margo exulted. "If I told you what I was thinking, you'd want to wash my mouth out with hard soap. I mean a mad passion where you do everything--everything. Something that takes control of you, something so overpowering that it changes everything inside you." "I think you're reading too much romance fiction." "I'm not reading it. I'm longing for it to happen to me." "Danger stalks," Vivien said. "Better get some food inside." "It won't happen. You can't will it to happen. It's just that ... nature is so unfair. Like"--she bent down very low next to Vivien's ear --"every time I think of things like this, I get horny. Sometimes when I feel like that I call Allen and tell him to rush right over. He always refuses." "Then call one of your--" Vivien could not bring herself to finish the sentence, as if it were an obscenity. Margo chuckled. "You don't do that with a stranger. What if he rejects your offer? No. That kind of a suggestion is only for long-term husbands." She lifted her glass. "It never occurs to me," Vivien said. In admitting it she felt no sense of inadequacy or moral superiority. Her orientation, she assured herself, was tolerance. Also, it was obvious that all of Margo's sexual angst wasn't contributing to her happiness. "So I'm forced to find another outlet," Margo said, giggling suddenly. Vivien's laugh reaction did not satisfy Margo's expectation. "You're definitely not the person to discuss this with," she said, winking as if to take the sting out of her tremor of testiness. "Once you stop reading Cosmopolitan, it all goes away," Vivien said. "I know you think this is all trivial." "Not trivial," Vivien said pleasantly. "Irrelevant to me. I've put my faith and hope in one man, body and soul." "Is that meant to be insulting or to be wise advice?"
CHATBOT
"Nu, delo v tom, chto Allen tak chertovski ustaet po nocham. Prioritety Vashingtona. Ambitsii prevyshe seksa. Chto delat' devushke?" - razmyshliala Margo. Ofitsiant podoshel i prines meniu. Margo otkryla svoe i, kazalos', nachala ego chitat'. "Inogda mne kazhetsia, chto on gde-to priachet malyshku. Znachit, tuda ukhodit vsia ego energiia. Nam tochno ne dostaetsia." Ona podmignula Viv'en. "Ia ne perezhivaiu po etomu povodu", - skazala Viv'en. "Konechno, u tebia net prichin perezhivat'". Margo sdvinula guby v tugoi ulybke. "Chert voz'mi, Viv. Ne bylo by zdorovo vliubit'sia v kakogo-nibud' bozhestvennogo muzhchinu? V kakogo-nibud' nesderzhannogo Adonisa? I chtoby on v tebia? Vse eto chudesnoe muchenie, opasnost' etogo." "Fantazii", - strogo zametila Viv'en. "Poslushai", - v vostorge nachala Margo. "Esli by ia rasskazala tebe, chto ia dumaiu, ty by zakhotela vymyt' mne rot khoziaistvennym mylom. Ia imeiu v vidu bezumnuiu strast', kogda ty delaesh' vse - absoliutno vse. Chto-to, chto beret nad toboi kontrol', chto-to nastol'ko oshelomliaiushchee, chto eto meniaet vse vnutri tebia." "Mne kazhetsia, ty slishkom mnogo chitaesh' romanticheskikh romanov." "Ia ikh ne chitaiu. Ia mechtaiu, chtoby eto sluchilos' so mnoi." "Ostorozhno, opasnost' podsteregaet", - skazala Viv'en. "Pora by nam chto-nibud' poest'." "Eto ne proizoidet. Nel'zia zastavit' eto sluchit'sia po svoei vole. Prosto ... priroda takaia nespravedlivaia. Naprimer", - ona nagnulas' nizko k ukhu Viv'en, - "kazhdyi raz, kogda ia dumaiu o takikh veshchakh, ia stanovlius' vozbuzhdennoi. Inogda ia zvoniu Allenu i govoriu emu priekhat' srazu. On vsegda otkazyvaetsia." "Togda pozvoni odnomu iz svoikh..." - Viv'en ne smogla zakonchit' frazu, kak budto eto bylo nepristoino. Margo zasmeialas'. "S neznakomtsem tak ne delaiut. A chto esli on otvergnet tvoe predlozhenie? Net. Takie predlozheniia tol'ko dlia muzhei dolgosrochnogo soderzhaniia." Ona podniala svoi bokal. "Ia i ne dumaiu ob etom", - skazala Viv'en. Priznavshis' v etom, ona ne ispytyvala ni chuvstva nepolnotsennosti, ni moral'nogo prevoskhodstva. Ee orientirom, kak ona ubezhdala sebia, byla tolerantnost'. Takzhe bylo ochevidno, chto ves' seksual'nyi bespokoistvo Margo ne sposobstvovalo ee schast'iu. "Tak chto mne prikhoditsia iskat' drugoi vykhod", - skazala Margo, vdrug zasmeiavshis'. Reaktsiia Viv'en na smekh ne opravdala ozhidanii Margo. "Opredelenno ty ne tot chelovek, s kotorym ob etom mozhno govorit'", - skazala ona, podmigivaia, slovno smiagchaia svoe razdrazhenie. "Kak tol'ko perestanesh' chitat' Cosmopolitan, vse eto proidet", - skazala Viv'en. "Znaiu, ty schitaesh' vse eto pustiakami." "Ne pustiaki", - milo otvetila Viv'en. "Mne eto ne aktual'no. Ia polozhila svoiu veru i nadezhdu na odnogo muzhchinu - telom i dushoi." "Eto dolzhno oskorbliat' ili iavliat'sia mudrym sovetom?"
USER
eshche fragment: "I'm not one to give advice." Vivien paused and laughed. "And I don't insult people I care about." "That's you. Typical. Goody two-shoes. The great earth mother." "I've been feeling like that. You should see the snowman I made with Ben." They ordered. Margo had quiche Lorraine and a salad. Vivien had eggs Benedict and declined a second martini. Margo openly debated but finally declined a third. Would she become, Vivien speculated, one of those sad Washington types, the women who lingered too long over lunch, got sloshed, left only when it became too obvious that they were the last customers in the restaurant? She listened as Margo prattled on. The food seemed to perk up her spirits. "You must think I'm awful, Viv." "Maybe you just have too much time on your hands, Margo. Maybe you should get a job." "Someday," Margo sighed. But her life seemed cast in cement: country clubs, tennis, golf, long lunches, lots of drinks, a roll in the hay with a nubile pro. And under it all, general malaise and vague unhappiness. To be Margo's friend on any permanent basis required more intimacy than Vivien was willing to give. For some reason, Margo had dampened her spirits today. Perhaps it was the grizzly view. Or the expressed dissatisfactions. Sometimes Vivien thought that the world deliberately conspired to make many women dissatisfied, and she was determined to resist that conspiracy. Margo had been right. She was content. Margo had made the condition seem like a disease. Over coffee her gaze drifted again to the river. She saw the crane and turned her eyes away. Considering the pain that life could hand out, Margo and she were quite lucky people. "You shouldn't let yourself get so down, Margo," Vivien said. "Well, then, give me the secret of your ups." "I wish I had an answer." Margo did not smile, leaving her with the distinct feeling that she had utterly failed as a confidante. They split the check, kissed each other good-bye in the parking lot, and Vivien headed for Dulles. The expectation of surprising Orson restored her cheerfulness.
CHATBOT
"Ia ne ta, kto razdaet sovety", - skazala Viv'en, zamolchav i zasmeiavshis'. "I ia ne oskorbliaiu tekh, kto mne nebezrazlichen." "Tipichno dlia tebia. Khoroshen'kaia devochka. Velikaia zemnaia mat'." "Mne tozhe tak kazhetsia. Ty by videla, kakogo snegovika ia slepila s Benom." Oni sdelali zakaz. Margo vybrala kish Lorren i salat. Viv'en predpochla iaitsa Benedikt i otkazalas' ot vtorogo martini. Margo otkryto kolebalas', no v itoge otkazalas' ot tret'ego. Viv'en zadavalas' voprosom, stanet li Margo odnoi iz tekh pechal'nykh zhenshchin Vashingtona, kotorye slishkom dolgo zaderzhivaiutsia na obede, napivaiutsia, ukhodiat tol'ko togda, kogda stanovitsia slishkom ochevidno, chto oni poslednie klienty v restorane? Ona slushala, kak Margo boltala bez umolku. Eda, kazalos', povysila ee nastroenie. "Ty naverniaka dumaesh', chto ia uzhasnaia, Viv." "Mozhet byt', u tebia prosto slishkom mnogo svobodnogo vremeni, Margo. Mozhet, tebe stoit ustroit'sia na rabotu." "Kogda-nibud'", - vzdokhnula Margo. No ee zhizn' byla slovno zastyla v tsemente: sportivnye kluby, tennis, gol'f, dolgie obedy, mnozhestvo napitkov, katanie na sene s privlekatel'nym professionalom. I pod vsem etim obshchee nedomoganie i neopredelennaia pechal'. Byt' druz'iami Margo na postoiannoi osnove trebovalo bol'shei blizosti, chem byla gotova predostavit' Viv'en. Po kakoi-to prichine Margo segodnia sbila ee s tolku. Vozmozhno, eto bylo iz-za mrachnogo vida. Ili iz-za vyskazannykh neudovletvorennostei. Inogda Viv'en dumala, chto mir namerenno stroit zagovor, chtoby sdelat' mnogikh zhenshchin neudovletvorennymi, i ona byla reshitel'no nastroena protivostoiat' etomu zagovoru. Margo byla prava. Ona byla dovol'na. Margo zastavila eto sostoianie kazat'sia bolezn'iu. Za kofe ee vzgliad snova upal na reku. Ona uvidela kran i otvela vzgliad. Uchityvaia bol', kotoruiu mogla prepodnesti zhizn', oni s Margo byli dovol'no udachlivymi liud'mi. "Tebe ne stoit tak unyvat', Margo", - skazala Viv'en. "Nu, togda dai mne sekret tvoikh pod'emov." "Khotela by ia znat' otvet." Margo ne ulybnulas', i Viv'en oshchutila iavnoe chuvstvo, chto ona polnost'iu provalilas' v roli doverennogo litsa. Oni razdelili schet, potselovalis' na proshchanie na parkovke i Viv'en napravilas' v Dalles. Ozhidanie udivit' Orsona vernulo ee v khoroshee nastroenie.
USER
eshche fragment: When she arrived at Dulles, the Concorde from Paris had just landed, and she stood patiently in the waiting room, straining her neck to catch the view of the customs area each time the automatic doors slid open. Orson would be totally flabbergasted. She delighted in her little mischievousness, thinking suddenly of what Margo had said: I wish something different would happen in my life. She snickered to herself. It didn't have to be on a grand scale, something dangerous or cataclysmic. What she was doing had its own secret thrill, and Orson would be delighted. Wasn't it always wonderful to see a familiar loving face when one arrived at a destination? Travelers began to come through the automatic doors, rolling their carts of luggage. The usual ceremony of greeting ensued, and slowly the waiting semicircle around the door thinned. She did not become apprehensive until someone asked a departing passenger whether he was coming from the TWA flight from London. The passenger nodded. "Has the Concorde from Paris been fully unloaded?" she asked one of the porters, who shrugged. "Might be some left. They're slow today." She looked at her watch. It was nearly four. She wondered if she had missed him. Maybe he took an earlier, conventional flight. She waited another twenty minutes, then went to the Pan American counter and asked the agent about the Concorde. "I'm sure everyone's gone by now," the agent replied. "My husband must have taken another flight." "What is his name?" Vivien told her, and she punched the computer keys. "Simpson?" "Yes." "I'm sorry. Are you sure he was on that flight?" She felt a bit embarrassed. "I could have misunderstood." "Would you like me to check tomorrow's passenger list?" "No," Vivien said quickly, not knowing why. Perhaps she did not wish to raise the level of her anxiety. She was certain there was a perfectly logical explanation. After all, she hadn't told him she would be there. She slid into a telephone booth and dialed home. "Has Mr. Simpson arrived?" she asked Alice. "Not yet, Mrs. Simpson. Was he supposed to come straight home?" It seemed an odd question, but she ignored it, inquired about Ben, and then hung up. She felt disoriented. Surely she had gotten it all wrong. Or his plans had changed. There were any number of possibilities. If she had not come to meet him, she might have been spared the bother. A call or telegram would soon come, announcing a later flight. Finally, she called Orson's office and spoke to his secretary, Jane Sparks. "What plane was Orson coming in on?" she asked casually. "I must have forgotten." Her relationship with Miss Sparks was strictly business. Secretly, though, she resented her and often felt patronized. "I assume the Concorde," Miss Sparks said crisply. "I'm here at Dulles. He's not on it." "That's strange..." There was a long pause. "But then I didn't make the arrangements, so he could be on another flight." "That's a relief," Vivien said, taking a deep breath. Then she asked pleasantly, "He hasn't called?" "No. I haven't heard from him since early Monday morning." Vivien remembered that he had called the office before he left. "He hasn't called any of the other partners?" "I'm not sure about that. I'll be glad to ask around." "Thank you." But she didn't hang up. Something nagged at her. Miss Sparks made all his arrangements, especially for travel. "Isn't it unusual that you didn't make the arrangements, Miss Sparks?" That sounded accusatory. She tempered it with a nervous giggle. "It was unusual, Mrs. Simpson, but..." Her hesitation was odd, longer than expected. "Sometimes he does things like that. I might have been busy on a brief or something. Apparently it was a new client. I really don't know much about it." "A new client?" "A possible new client, I think."
CHATBOT
Kogda ona pribyla v Dalles, Konkord iz Parizha tol'ko chto prizemlilsia, i ona terpelivo stoiala v zale ozhidaniia, vytiagivaia sheiu, chtoby ulovit' vid tamozhennoi zony kazhdyi raz, kogda avtomaticheskie dveri skol'zili v storony. Orson budet absoliutno oshelomlen. Ona radovalas' svoei nebol'shoi koketlivosti, vnezapno vspomniv, chto govorila Margo: "Kak by ia khotela, chtoby v moei zhizni chto-to izmenilos'". Ona khikhiknula pro sebia. Neobiazatel'no eto dolzhno byt' chto-to grandioznoe, opasnoe ili katastroficheskoe. To, chto ona seichas delala, imelo svoiu sobstvennuiu tainuiu prelest', i Orson budet v vostorge. Razve ne zamechatel'no uvidet' znakomoe liubiashchee litso, kogda pribyvaesh' kuda-to? Passazhiry stali prokhodit' cherez avtomaticheskie dveri, katia svoi chemodany. Nachalis' obychnye tseremonii privetstviia, i postepenno krug ozhidaiushchikh u dveri istonchalsia. Ona ne stala vstrevozhena, poka kto-to ne sprosil u ukhodiashchego passazhira, ne iz li reisa TWA iz Londona on. Passazhir kivnul. "Konkord iz Parizha uzhe polnost'iu razgruzili?" - sprosila ona u odnogo iz gruzchikov, kotoryi tol'ko pozhal plechami. "Mozhet byt', eshche ostalis'. Segodnia oni medlennye." Ona posmotrela na svoi chasy. Bylo pochti chetyre. Ona zadumalas', ne propustila li ona ego. Mozhet byt', on vzial bolee rannii obychnyi reis. Ona podozhdala eshche dvadtsat' minut, zatem podoshla k stoike Panamerikan i sprosila agenta o Konkorde. "Ia uveren, chto vse uzhe ushli", - otvechal agent. "Moi muzh, dolzhno byt', vospol'zovalsia drugim reisom." "Kak ego zovut?" Viv'en nazvala ego imia, i agent bystro nabrala chto-to na komp'iutere. "Simpson?" "Da." "Prostite, vy uvereny, chto on byl na tom reise?" Ona nemnogo smutilas'. "Ia, vozmozhno, nedoponiala." "Khotite, chtoby ia proverila spisok passazhirov zavtrashnego dnia?" "Net", - bystro otvetila Viv'en, ne ponimaia pochemu. Vozmozhno, ona ne khotela usilivat' svoe bespokoistvo. Ona byla uverena, chto est' vpolne logichnoe ob'iasnenie. V kontse kontsov, ona ne skazala emu, chto budet ego vstrechat'. Ona zabralas' v telefonnuiu budku i pozvonila domoi. "Mister Simpson priekhal?" - sprosila ona u Elis. "Eshche net, missis Simpson. Razve on sobiralsia idti priamo domoi?" Eto pokazalos' strannym voprosom, no ona ne stala na nem zaostriat' vnimanie, sprosila o Bene i zatem polozhila trubku. Ona chuvstvovala sebia ozadachennoi. Naverniaka ona chto-to pereputala. Ili u nego izmenilis' plany. Bylo mnogo variantov. Esli by ona ne prishla ego vstrechat', ei by moglo izbavit' ot khlopot. Vskore dolzhno bylo priiti zvonok ili telegramma, soobshchaiushchaia o bolee pozdnem reise. V kontse kontsov, ona pozvonila v ofis Orsona i pogovorila s ego sekretarem, Dzhein Sparks. "Na kakom reise dolzhen byl priekhat' Orson?" - sprosila ona spokoino. "Ia, kazhetsia, zabyla." Ikh otnosheniia s miss Sparks byli strogo delovymi. Na samom dele, odnako, ona ei nedoveriala i chasto chuvstvovala sebia unizhennoi. "Ia polagaiu, na Konkorde," - kholodno otvetila miss Sparks. "Ia zdes', v Dallese. Ego net na etom reise." "Stranno..." Byla dolgaia pauza. "No ia ne zanimalas' etoi rezervatsiei, tak chto on mog byt' na drugom reise." "Kakoe oblegchenie", - skazala Viv'en, s oblegcheniem vzdokhnuv. Zatem ona druzheliubno sprosila: "On ne zvonil?" "Net. Ia ne slyshala ot nego s rannego ponedel'nika utra". Viv'en vspomnila, chto on zvonil v ofis pered ot'ezdom. "On ne zvonil drugim partneram?" "Ne uverena naschet etogo. Ia s radost'iu sproshu." "Spasibo." No ona ne povesila trubku. Chto-to ee bespokoilo. Miss Sparks vsegda zanimalas' ego rezervatsiiami, osobenno dlia puteshestvii. "Neobychno, chto vy ne zanimalis' etimi rezervatsiiami, miss Sparks?" Eto prozvuchalo obvinitel'no. Ona priukrasila eto nervnym smeshkom. "Eto bylo neobychno, missis Simpson, no..." Ee kolebanie bylo strannym, dol'she, chem ozhidalos'. "Inogda on delaet takie veshchi. Mozhet byt', ia byla zaniata kakim-to delom ili chto-to v etom rode. Po-vidimomu, eto byl novyi klient. Ia deistvitel'no malo chto o nem znaiu". "Novyi klient?" "Vozmozhnyi novyi klient, ia dumaiu."
USER
eshche fragment: She had always assumed that Miss Sparks knew everything about Orson's life. It was the very reason she felt patronized. Her continued hesitation was disturbing. "Would you switch me to Mr. Martin?" she asked politely. "Of course," Miss Sparks said crisply. Dale Martin was one of the partners. Orson and he had both come to the firm together. Surely Dale would know. "What is it, Viv?" "I thought maybe you knew what plane Orson was coming in on." There was another long pause. She felt the backwash of the eggs Benedict in her throat and behind it the sour aftertaste of the martini. "Gee, I don't know. He said something about a new client in Paris." "Yes. Miss Sparks said that." "Well, what hotel was he booked into?" The question seemed directed at someone other than herself, probably Miss Sparks. She heard him say: "You don't know? He made it himself? Now that's strange." The words were spoken away from the mouthpiece, with an odd hesitancy. When he spoke directly into the mouthpiece, his voice was firm. "I'm sure it's no problem. We'll ask around the office. Where will you be?" The question hung in the air. She was still disoriented, and it took her a few moments to gather her wits. "Vivien?" "Home, I guess," she said finally. It was when she was heading toward McLean on the Dulles Access Highway that she came to grips with her anxiety. Admonishing herself for overreacting, she felt foolish. Nothing more gauche than a hysterical wife, especially one who seemed to be checking up on her husband. Credibility was always an important consideration for Orson, especially in terms of herself. What she had done was embarrass herself before her husband's partner and his secretary; she had made herself less than credible. Any wife worth her salt would know her husband's itinerary, if only to reach him in case of emergencies. By the time she reached home, she was calmer and her agitation was directed at herself. "Anyone call?" she asked Alice. "Not Mr. Simpson." Vivien felt the woman's eyes inspecting her. She felt miserable and foolish. Inadequate. She went through the motions of normality for the rest of the evening, fielding questions from Ben about Orson's coming home. She had told him that Orson would be home by the time he returned from school. "Will Daddy be home tonight?" "I'm not sure." "If he comes home late, will you wake me?" "Yes, if he comes home late." "Did he buy me a toy?" "I'm sure he did." "Do you know what kind?" "For God's sake, Ben..." She had to get herself under control. No sense going to pieces. She looked out the window and saw the outline of the large snowman that she and Ben had built. It reminded her of the day Orson had left, and she tried to remember all he had said. Had she missed something? She tried to reconstruct the conversation. Paris? The Concorde? Thursday? She hadn't used much of the three hundred dollars he had given her. "It's only for four days," she had told him. Well, the four days were past. After dinner she planted Ben in front of the television set and went into Orson's study to search through papers for clues as to his whereabouts. Nothing seemed related to the trip. She felt utterly baffled and dialed Margo's number. "He wasn't on the flight." These were the first words she blurted out. "Probably stayed in Paris," Margo said lightly. "A casual affair." "I'm serious, Margo, and a little frightened. Orson's not a person who wouldn't call if his plans changed." Margo became instantly serious. "What about his hotel?" "I don't know it." "Well, then, call the office, Viv. It slays me. You seem to get more helpless every time I see you. Surely his secretary knows. They always know everything."
CHATBOT
Ona vsegda polagala, chto miss Sparks znaet vse ob Orsone. Imenno poetomu Viv'en chuvstvovala sebia unizhennoi. Ee prodolzhaiushcheesia molchanie bylo trevozhnym. "Ne mogli by vy perekliuchit' menia na mistera Martina?" - sprosila ona vezhlivo. "Konechno", - rezko otvetila miss Sparks. Deil Martin byl odnim iz partniorov. On i Orson prishli v firmu odnovremenno. Konechno zhe, Deil dolzhen byl znat'. "Chto sluchilos', Viv?" "Ia podumala, mozhet byt', vy znaete, na kakom samolete dolzhen byl priletet' Orson." Byla eshche odna dolgaia pauza. Ona pochuvstvovala posledstviia iaits Benedikt v svoem gorle i za nimi - kislyi privkus martini. "Chert, ia ne znaiu. On chto-to govoril o novom kliente v Parizhe." "Da. Miss Sparks skazala to zhe samoe". "Nu, v kakom otele on byl zabronirovan?" Etot vopros, kazalos', byl napravlen komu-to drugomu, skoree vsego miss Sparks. Ona slyshala, kak on govorit: "Vy ne znaete? On broniroval sam? Nu eto stranno." Eti slova byli skazany v storonu ot telefonnoi trubki, s nekotorym kolebaniem. Kogda on snova govoril priamo v telefon, ego golos stal tverdym: "Ia uveren, chto nichego strashnogo. My posprashivaem v ofise. Gde vy budete?" Vopros zagremel v vozdukhe. Ona vse eshche chuvstvovala sebia oshelomlennoi, i ei ponadobilos' neskol'ko mgnovenii, chtoby sobrat'sia s mysliami. "Viv'en?" "Doma, navernoe", - nakonets skazala ona. Kogda ona ekhala po shosse Dalles Eksess v storonu Maklina, ona stolknulas' so svoei trevogoi. Uprekaia sebia za izlishniuiu reaktsiiu, ona pochuvstvovala sebia glupo. Nichego net bolee neukliuzhego, chem isterichnaia zhena, osobenno ta, kotoraia, kazhetsia, sledit za svoim muzhem. Dostovernost' vsegda byla vazhnym aspektom dlia Orsona, osobenno v otnosheniiakh s nei. To, chto ona sdelala, eto privelo k tomu, chto ona skomprometirovala sebia pered partnerom svoego muzha i ego sekretarem; ona stala menee ubeditel'noi. Liubaia zhena, dostoinaia etogo nazvaniia, znala by raspisanie svoego muzha, khotia by dlia togo, chtoby sviazat'sia s nim v sluchae chrezvychainykh situatsii. K tomu vremeni, kogda ona priekhala domoi, ona uspokoilas', i ee volnenie bylo napravleno na samu sebia. "Kto-nibud' zvonil?" - sprosila ona Elis. "Ne mister Simpson." Viv'en chuvstvovala pristal'nyi vzgliad zhenshchiny. Ona chuvstvovala sebia zhalko i glupo. Nesostoiatel'no. Ostatok vechera ona delala vid, chto vse normal'no, otvechaia na voprosy Bena o priezde Orsona. Ona skazala emu, chto Orson vernetsia domoi k tomu vremeni, kak on vernetsia iz shkoly. "Papa pridet domoi segodnia vecherom?" "Ne uverena." "Esli on pridet pozdno, ty razbudish' menia?" "Da, esli on pridet pozdno." "On kupil mne igrushku?" "Ia uveren, chto da." "Ty znaesh', kakuiu?" "Radi Boga, Ben..." Ei nuzhno bylo vziat' sebia v ruki. Net smysla teriat' samoobladanie. Ona posmotrela v okno i uvidela ochertaniia bol'shogo snegovika, kotoryi ona i Ben postroili. Eto napomnilo ei o dne ot'ezda Orsona, i ona popytalas' vspomnit' vse, chto on skazal. Mozhet byt', ona chto-to upustila? Ona popytalas' vosstanovit' razgovor. Parizh? Konkord? Chetverg? Ona malo pol'zovalas' tremiastami dollarami, kotorye on dal ei. "Eto vsego na chetyre dnia", - skazala ona emu. Nu, chetyre dnia proshli. Posle uzhina ona usadila Bena pered televizorom i otpravilas' v kabinet Orsona iskat' v dokumentakh kakie-libo uliki o ego mestonakhozhdenii. Nichego, chto kazalos' sviazannym s poezdkoi, naideno ne bylo. Ona chuvstvovala sebia polnost'iu ozadachennoi i nabrala nomer Margo. "Ego ne bylo na reise". Eto byli pervye slova, kotorye ona neosoznanno vypalila. "Navernoe, ostalsia v Parizhe", - legko skazala Margo. "Kakoe-to sluchainoe svidanie." "Ia ser'ezna, Margo, i nemnogo napugana. Orson ne iz tekh, kto by ne pozvonil, esli by ego plany izmenilis'". Margo srazu stala ser'eznoi. "Chto naschet ego otelia?" "Ia ego ne znaiu". "Nu togda, pozvoni v ofis, Viv. Ty umiliaesh' menia. Ty kazhesh'sia eshche bolee bespomoshchnoi kazhdyi raz, kogda ia tebia vizhu. Konechno, ego sekretar' znaet. Oni vsegda vse znaiut".
USER
eshche fragment: "She doesn't." "That's impossible." "She just doesn't, and neither does his partner," Vivien said, her heart sinking. She was simply ashamed that she hadn't the faintest idea about what to do. "Maybe he just missed the flight. Simple as that." "Then why hasn't he called?" Vivien cried, pausing to resist the oncoming waves of hysteria. "I'm sorry to have upset you," Vivien said, detesting the apology. She heard a sudden click. She had one of those phones that signaled when an incoming call was coming in. "I'll call you later. That may be Orson." The brief burst of relief quickly dissipated. It was Miss Sparks. "Any word from Mr. Simpson?" she asked. "Not yet." Vivien tried to say it calmly. From her tone, it seemed that Miss Sparks had anticipated the answer. "I did check the Concorde flights for tomorrow. Also the regular jets..." It annoyed Vivien at first that Miss Sparks had duplicated the effort with the Concorde people. She herself had forgotten, or been too timid, to check the regular jets. She could tell from Miss Sparks's tone that she had met with little success. "...and a number of likely hotels in Paris." She heard the emission of a strange sigh. So Miss Sparks, too, was becoming anxious, she thought, not at all heartened by the knowledge. "I'm sure I'll hear from him before the night is over," Vivien said as if she were trying to soothe Miss Sparks. "Oh, I'm sure of it," Miss Sparks responded with an optimistic lilt that seemed forced and artificial. "I know your husband. I'm sure there is a logical explanation." "I just don't understand why you didn't make the arrangements," Vivien said. It was a compulsive reaction, so out of character that it left a long pause on the line. "It's a mystery to me," Miss Sparks said. "But I'm sure everything is all right," she added quickly. "I just don't understand it," she said. "It's just not like him." "No, it isn't, Mrs. Simpson," Miss Sparks said. She could no longer hide her deep concern behind the crisp facade. For a moment Vivien felt as though she were a genuine ally. "If I hear tonight, I'll call," Vivien said. "Will you? I'd appreciate that."
CHATBOT
"U neio net informatsii." "Eto nevozmozhno." "Prosto net, i u ego partnera tozhe", - skazala Viv'en, chuvstvuia, kak eio serdtse tonet. Ei bylo prosto stydno, chto ona sovershenno ne predstavliala, chto delat'. "Mozhet byt', on prosto propustil reis. Takoe byvaet." "Togda pochemu on ne pozvonil?" - Viv'en razrevelas', staraias' soprotivliat'sia nastupaiushchim volnam isteriki. "Prostite, chto rasstroila vas", - skazala Viv'en, ne liubia izviniat'sia. Ona uslyshala vdrug shchelchok. U neio byl telefon, kotoryi signaliziroval o vkhodiashchem zvonke. "Ia perezvoniu pozzhe. Eto, mozhet byt', Orson." Kratkii problesk oblegcheniia bystro ischez. Eto byla miss Sparks. "Est' kakie-nibud' novosti ot mistera Simpsona?" - sprosila ona. "Eshchio net." Viv'en postaralas' govorit' spokoino. Iz eio tona bylo vidno, chto Miss Sparks ozhidala imenno takogo otveta. "Ia proverila reisy Konkorda na zavtra. A takzhe obychnye reisy..." Snachala Viv'en razdrazhalo, chto Miss Sparks dublirovala eio usiliia s liud'mi Konkorda. Sama ona zabyla ili slishkom boialas' proverit' obychnye reisy. Ona mogla skazat' po tonu Miss Sparks, chto u neio bylo malo uspekha. "...i riad veroiatnykh otelei v Parizhe." Ona uslyshala strannyi vzdokh. Tak Miss Sparks tozhe stala vstrevozhennoi, podumala ona, ne vdokhnovlennaia etim znaniem. "Ia uverena, chto do kontsa nochi ot nego chto-to uslyshu", - skazala Viv'en, kak budto pytaias' uspokoit' Miss Sparks. "O, ia uverena v etom, " - otozvalas' Miss Sparks s optimistichnoi intonatsiei, kotoraia pokazalas' vynuzhdennoi i iskusstvennoi. "Ia znaiu vashego muzha. Ia uverena, chto est' logicheskoe ob'iasnenie." "Ia prosto ne ponimaiu, pochemu vy ne sdelali eti rezervatsii," - skazala Viv'en. Eto bylo impul'sivnoe zamechanie, tak ne pokhozhee na neio, chto posledovala dolgaia pauza v telefonnoi linii. "Eto dlia menia taina", - skazala Miss Sparks. "No ia uverena, chto vse v poriadke", - bystro dobavila ona. "Ia prosto ne ponimaiu, chto proiskhodit", - prodolzhala ona. "Eto prosto ne v ego stile." "Net, eto ne pokhozhe na mistera Simpsona", - skazala Miss Sparks. Ona uzhe ne mogla skryt' svoiu glubokuiu obespokoennost' za fasadom reshitel'nosti. Na mgnovenie Viv'en pochuvstvovala, chto ona - iskrennii soiuznik. "Esli ia chto-to uznaiu segodnia vecherom, ia pozvoniu", - skazala Viv'en. "Sdelaete? Ia byla by priznatel'na."
USER
eshche fragment: After hanging up, she paced the study. Mostly she hated the feeling of total helplessness. Her emotions drifted from fear to panic to anger. Anger seemed the most productive, holding at bay any debilitating anxiety. How dare he do this to her! It was callous, unthinking. Then she directed her anger against herself. She had been stupid, a typical brainless do-nothing wife who left everything to her husband. She was a dimwit, the ultimate traditional woman, the quintessential nonassertive wife. She deserved to be in this state. She should have known where he was going, how and when, instead of expecting others to know for her. That would change, she vowed. Maybe she had become too contented. Bovine. She put Ben to bed, after enduring another bout of questioning about Daddy, which only unnerved her further. To take her mind off her fear, she turned on the television set to the news, and the first image that assailed her was the crash, evoking the immediate horror of accident. She quickly turned off the television set and thought about that. If he was in an accident, he carried identification. Shuddering, she pushed that thought from her mind and debated whether or not to call her parents in Vermont. She rejected that idea. No sense in getting others upset. For a long time she sat in the silence of the hushed house and looked out into the backyard at the stoic visage of their snowman, calm and serene in the chill night, staring out at the alien world with his cookie eyes. Then she opened a bottle of brandy, poured a glass, and sipped it slowly. The warmth felt good as it trailed through her chest, soothing her. Soon, she was certain, she would discover a perfectly logical explanation. That thought reassured her, but only for a little while.
CHATBOT
Posle togo kak ona polozhila trubku, ona proshlas' po kabinetu. Bol'she vsego ei nenavistno bylo chuvstvo polnoi bespomoshchnosti. Eio emotsii kolebalis' ot strakha k panike, a zatem k gnevu. Gnev kazalsia samym produktivnym, sderzhivaia liubuiu iznuritel'nuiu trevogu. Kak on posmel eto sdelat' s nei! Eto bylo zhestoko, bezdumno. Zatem ona napravila svoi gnev na sebia. Ona byla glupa, tipichnaia bezgolovaia zhena, kotoraia nichego ne delaet i ostavliaet vse na muzha. Ona byla prostachkom, zakonchennoi traditsionnoi zhenshchinoi, kvintessentsiei pokornoi zheny. Ona zasluzhila okazat'sia v takom sostoianii. Ona dolzhna byla znat', kuda on napravliaetsia, kak i kogda, vmesto togo, chtoby ozhidat', chto drugie znaiut za neio. Eto izmenitsia, ona poklialas'. Mozhet byt', ona stala slishkom dovol'noi soboi. Bydlovatoi. Ona ulozhila Bena spat', vyderzhav eshche odin voprositel'nyi raund o pape, kotoryi tol'ko bol'she vzvintil eio nervy. Chtoby otvlech'sia ot strakha, ona vkliuchila televizor na novosti, i pervoe izobrazhenie, kotoroe na neio obrushilos', bylo krusheniem, vyzvavshim mgnovennyi uzhas avarii. Ona bystro vykliuchila televizor i podumala ob etom. Esli on popal v avariiu, u nego pri sebe byli udostovereniia lichnosti. Vzdragivaia, ona otognala etu mysl' ot sebia i kolebalas', zvonit' li svoim roditeliam v Vermont. Ona otvergla etu ideiu. Net smysla bespokoit' drugikh. Dolgoe vremia ona sidela v tishine zatikhshego doma i smotrela vo dvor, na stoicheskoe litso ikh snegovika, spokoinoe i bezmiatezhnoe v prokhladnoi nochi, ustavivshegosia v chuzherodnyi mir svoimi pechen'evymi glazami. Zatem ona vskryla butylku brendi, nalila stakan i medlenno eio poprobovala. Ona chuvstvovala sebia khorosho, kogda teplo probezhalo cherez eio grud', uspokaivaia eio. Skoro, ona byla uverena, ona naidet vpolne logicheskoe ob'iasnenie. Eta mysl' uteshila eio, no tol'ko na nebol'shoi promezhutok vremeni.