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Cluster 11
“sdelai literaturnyi perevod na russkii iazyk: "And when you find it?" "We'll tak” (1 conversations)
toxic
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Feb 21, 2024 at 4:14 PM MSK
Russia
USER
sdelai literaturnyi perevod na russkii iazyk: "And when you find it?" "We'll take it as it comes." "You don't know nothin', do you?" McCarthy felt his anger swelling. "If it happened to you, you'd understand," Edward said. "The barn door's closed. It's over. Leave it alone. The more you know, the more you'll shit. Accept it. They worked you over, and they got theirs. Dumb fate did your work for you. There are millions out there who'd like it done like that. Bam! Crash! Down the tube!" "You don't understand." He was seeing red now. "You think they were playing potsy? They were fucking you over!" He felt a howl come roaring out of his chest. "They didn't like the home cookin'. Not hers or yours. Don't talk to me about lost trust, commitment, relationships, honesty. When I was a kid, they talked about honor. Shit! You know what you're gonna find in that place? One bed and ten thousand dirty pictures and sheets stained with a million lost kids." He belched. "Except one." Hell, he had tried to do this fellow a favor, but he wouldn't leave it alone. McCarthy felt the rising tide of cruelty. "You've already been hit by a semi. You're about to get hit by a tank." A frown furrowed Edward's forehead. Poor bastard, McCarthy thought. Why the hell should he escape the full brunt of it? Share the pain, boys. "She was pregnant." "Pregnant?" The man turned ashen and fell against the back of the booth as if he had been pushed. McCarthy's anger drained. "Sit next to an Irishman in his cups, and he thinks you're a priest." He watched as the man took deep breaths, puckering his lips. McCarthy was sobering now, the damage done. "So," he said, cooling. "The more you know, the more it helps." "Why...?" Edward began. "Loose ends." He shrugged. "I told you I don't like mysteries. The stewardess was also pregnant. It gave me an idea. The Medical Examiner ran the test just before we shipped her. A lucky hunch. Hell, it was only the day before yesterday. I might have called you." In a pig's ass, he thought. He got up unsteadily. Case closed. Enough for one evening. "And the ends? Are they still loose?" "For you. Not for me. Figure it out." He started to amble away, unsteadily. Edward came up behind him. "How long?" he demanded. McCarthy turned and faced him. "About six weeks. Tell you anything?" The man swiveled on his heel, moving again. "Don't blame me," he shouted after him. "I didn't put the poison in the cup!"
CHATBOT
-- I chto, kogda ty eto naidiosh'? -- Budem deistvovat' po obstoiatel'stvam. -- Ty ved' nichego ne znaesh', da? -- Makkarti chuvstvoval, kak ego nakryvaet gnev. -- Esli by eto sluchilos' s toboi, ty by ponial, -- otvetil Edvard. -- Sarai zapert. Vsio koncheno. Ostav' eto v pokoe. Chem bol'she ty znaesh', tem bol'she budesh' der'mom zanimat'sia. Primi eto. Oni s toboi postupili, kak khoteli, i poluchili svoio. Tupaia sud'ba sdelala vsio za tebia. Est' milliony, kto khotel by, chtoby tak s nimi postupili. Bam! Krushenie! Priamo v bezdnu! -- Ty ne ponimaesh'. Teper' on byl zol do krasnoty. -- Dumaesh', oni igrali v detskuiu igru? Oni trakhali tebia napropaluiu! -- iz grudi Makkarti vyrvalsia vopl'. -- Im ne ponravilas' domashniaia eda. Ni eio, ni tvoia. Ne govori mne o poteriannom doverii, obiazatel'stvakh, otnosheniiakh, chestnosti. Kogda ia byl molod, oni govorili ob chesti. Chiort! Znaesh', chto ty naidiosh' v tom meste? Odnu krovat' i desiat' tysiach griaznykh fotografii i prostyni, izmazannye millionom poteriannykh detei. -- On otrygnul. -- Za iskliucheniem odnogo. Chiort, on pytalsia pomoch' etomu paren'ku, no tot ne khotel otstavat'. Makkarti pochuvstvoval priliv zhestokosti. -- Tebia uzhe sbil fura. Teper' tebia sobiraiutsia sbit' tank. Na lbu Edvarda poiavilas' zametnaia morshchina. Bedniaga, podumal Makkarti. Zachem, chert voz'mi, on dolzhen izbezhat' polnoi sily udara? Pust' stradaiut vse. -- Ona byla beremenna. -- Beremenna? Chelovek poblednel i otprianul k zadnei stenke kabinki, kak budto ego tolknuli. Gnev Makkarti stal utikhat'. -- Siad' riadom s irlandtsem za charkoi, i on podumaet, chto ty sviashchennik. -- On nabliudal, kak chelovek delaet glubokie vdokhi, prishchurivaia guby. Makkarti trezvel, ushcherb byl nanesion. -- Itak, -- skazal on, uspokaivaias'. -- Chem bol'she ty znaesh', tem bol'she eto pomogaet. -- Zachem...? -- nachal Edvard. -- Nezavershionnye dela. -- On pozhal plechami. -- Ia zhe govoril, chto ne liubliu tainy. Stiuardessa tozhe byla beremenna. Eto dalo mne ideiu. Sudmedekspert proviol test priamo pered tem, kak my eio otpravili. Schastlivoe predchuvstvie. Chiort, eto bylo vsego pozavchera. Ia mog by pozvonit' tebe. -- V pechionkakh svin'i, podumal on. On vstal neustoichivo. Delo zakryto. Khvatit na vecher. -- A nezavershionnye dela? Oni vsio eshchio nezavershionnye? -- Dlia tebia. Dlia menia net. Razberis' sam. On nachal shatat'sia, ukhodia proch'. Edvard podoshiol k nemu szadi. -- Kak dolgo? -- potreboval on. Makkarti povernulsia i stolknulsia s nim litsom k litsu. -- Okolo shesti nedel'. Eto tebe chto-to govorit? Chelovek povernulsia na kablukakh i dvinulsia dal'she. -- Ne vini menia, -- kriknul on emu vsled. -- Ia ne tot, kto nalil iad v chashu!
USER
sdelai literaturnyi perevod na russkii iazyk: Still in her coat, Vivien sat on a chair in the kitchen and watched Hamster sniff at the foot of the snowman, which had been yellowed by his incessant piddle. Dark patches emerged where the snow had disappeared, and the large lawn had a scraggly, unhealthy look. When Hamster began scratching at the door again, her resolve hardened. Hamster was Orson's gift, his choice, and he and Ben had nursed him through puppyhood, which provided absolution for what she was about to do. Opening the door, she let him in. He shot straight to his dish, sniffed, licked the residue from the plastic, then turned to her, tail wagging, his round brown eyes moist with expectation. "Sorry, pal," she whispered, bending and scooping him up with one hand. With a firm hand, she had drawn this line in her mind. She hadn't been conscious of any pattern at first. Now it was clearly evident, and she relished the discovery. It wasn't simply a question of justice or even punishment. It was more like an exorcism. What had belonged to Orson, what reflected his point of view, his tastes, his alleged affections, his personal choices and effects, would be trashed. And the line had been advancing with each additional revelation. The Salvation Army had already carted away much of the physical evidence of his life in this house. Returning home, she had noted immediately that the removal diminished the feeling of his presence. She could, of course, have burned these things. She regarded her decision not to as proof that she had not lost her sense of compassion or humanity. It was, after all, a bonanza for the Salvation Army: a Washington lawyer's smart preppy wardrobe, complete with more than a dozen pairs of shoes; his sports equipment--tennis racket, golf clubs; law journals, random files; writing materials; paper-weights. She had stripped the walls of his study of prints, three carved duck decoys that had come down from some hunting relative, old pipes, his rack, even his coffee mug, the one that literally said His. Everything! There were other things of his still remaining in the master bedroom: his jewelry (studs, cufflinks), shaving tools, cologne, and aftershave. Not another night must go by with such things in the house. Now it was Hamster's turn, and she considered the act of disposal a true test of her resolve. She carried him out to the car and put him in the seat beside her. He liked to ride in cars, propped up on his haunches; his eyes roved the passing streets for fellow dogs at whom to bark a greeting. When she and Orson went out of town in the past, they would send Ben to her parents' and board Hamster at a nearby farm. Often the people who ran the place would take "orphaned" dogs and try to find them compatible homes. It was not, she assured herself, like putting him to sleep. As she drove into the dirt road that led to the farm, Hamster's body grew tense. His body shivered with fear as he huddled close to her. "I'll try," the woman who ran the farm said. "But it's not as easy as you think." "I'll pay for his board for as long as it takes." "All right. But I can't give you any guarantees." "I understand perfectly," Vivien said, writing out a check for a month's board. Exile or death, she thought, experiencing the gnawing malice of her intent. She had deliberately kept the animal from going with Ben and her parents to Vermont. Perhaps later, if he could not be placed, she would develop the courage to put him to sleep, an idea that, despite all the ferocious intensity of her resolve, frightened her. The telephone was ringing when she got home. She answered it, breathless from running, hoping it would be Edward. It was Dale Martin. "We've been going over Orson's policies," he began after the amenities. "You'll be quite comfortable. Then there's the suit against the airline...." She listened with disinterest. Dale was also beyond the line. "Are you there, Vivien?" Dale asked, after he had droned on without a response from her. She felt compelled to grunt an acknowledgment. "You'll be a very comfortable widow, I'm happy to say. The policies alone, including the firm's key man insurance, comes to a tidy seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and you'll undoubtedly get double that when the airlines pay off." He paused. "I know it won't bring Orson back, but it will ease your personal situation, financially speaking."
CHATBOT
Eshchio ne sniav pal'to, Viv'en sidela na stule na kukhne i nabliudala, kak Khamster niukhaet nogu snegovika, kotoryi pozheltel ot ego neugomonnogo mochevydeleniia. Po mestam, gde sneg rastaial, obrazovalis' temnye piatna, a bol'shoi gazon vygliadel redkim i nezdorovym. Kogda Khamster nachal snova tsarapat' dver', eio reshimost' ukrepilas'. Khamster byl podarkom Orsona, ego vyborom, i imenno on vmeste s Benom vyrastili ego iz shchenka, chto davalo ei absoliutsiiu za to, chto ona gotova byla sdelat'. Otkryv dver', ona vpustila ego vnutr'. On pomchalsia priamo k svoei miske, poniukhal, obliznul ostatki korma s plastika i povernulsia k nei, viliaia khvostom; ego kruglye korichnevye glaza blesteli ot ozhidaniia. "Prosti, priiatel'", -- prosheptala ona, nagnuvshis' i podniav ego odnoi rukoi. Tverdoi rukoi ona provela etu chertu u sebia v mysliakh. Snachala ona ne byla osoznannoi, no teper' ochevidnoi, i ona s naslazhdeniem otmechala eto otkrytie. Eto bylo ne prosto voprosom spravedlivosti ili nakazaniia. Eto bol'she pokhodilo na ekzortsizm. To, chto prinadlezhalo Orsonu, chto otrazhalo ego vzgliady, vkusy, iakoby priviazannosti, lichnye predpochteniia i veshchi, dolzhno byt' vybrosheno. I eta cherta s kazhdym novym otkrytiem vse shla dal'she. Armiia spaseniia uzhe otvezla bol'shuiu chast' material'nykh svidetel'stv ego zhizni v etom dome. Kogda ona vernulas' domoi, ona srazu zametila, chto iz'iatie umen'shilo chuvstvo ego prisutstviia. Konechno, ona mogla by szhech' eti veshchi. No to, chto ona reshila etogo ne delat', rassmatrivala kak dokazatel'stvo togo, chto ona ne poteriala svoego chuvstva sostradaniia i chelovechnosti. V kontse kontsov, eto bylo nastoiashchei nakhodkoi dlia Armii spaseniia: umnaia stil'naia odezhda iurista iz Vashingtona, vkliuchaia bolee desiatka par obuvi; ego sportivnoe oborudovanie -- raketka dlia tennisa, gol'f-kluby; iuridicheskie zhurnaly, sluchainye faily; pis'mennye prinadlezhnosti; podstavki dlia bumag. Ona sniala so sten ego kabineta printy, tri reznye utinye primanki, peredannye ot kakogo-to okhotnich'ego rodstvennika, starye trubki, ego veshalku, dazhe ego kofeinuiu kruzhku, na kotoroi bukval'no bylo napisano "Ego". Vsio! V spal'ne mastera ostavalis' i drugie ego veshchi: ego ukrasheniia (zaponki, pugovitsy dlia manzhet), instrumenty dlia brit'ia, odekolon i posle brit'ia. Bol'she ni odnoi nochi ne dolzhno proiti s takimi veshchami v dome. Teper' nastala ochered' Khamstera, i ona rassmatrivala akt vybrosa kak istinnoe ispytanie svoei reshimosti. Ona nesla ego k mashine i posadila na siden'e riadom s soboi. On liubil katat'sia v mashinakh, vysunuvshis' na svoikh zadnikh lapakh; ego glaza skol'zili po prokhodiashchim ulitsam v poiskakh sobak, chtoby probasit' im privetstvie. Kogda oni s Orsonom ukhodili iz goroda ran'she, oni otpravliali Bena k eio roditeliam i pomeshchali Khamstera na blizlezhashchuiu fermu. Chasto liudi, vedushchie eto mesto, brali "sirotskikh" sobak i pytalis' naiti im podkhodiashchii dom. Eto, kak ona sebia zaverila, ne bylo pokhozhe na usyplenie. Poka ona ekhala po gruntovoi doroge, vedushchei k ferme, telo Khamstera napriaglos'. Ego telo drozhalo ot strakha, kogda on prizhimalsia k nei. "Ia postaraius'", -- skazala zhenshchina, vedushchaia fermu. "No eto ne tak prosto, kak vam kazhetsia." "Ia oplachu ego soderzhanie nastol'ko, naskol'ko eto nuzhno." "Khorosho. No ia ne mogu dat' vam nikakikh garantii." "Ia prekrasno ponimaiu," -- skazala Viv'en, vypisyvaia chek na mesiachnoe soderzhanie. Izgnanie ili smert', podumala ona, oshchushchaia raz'edaiushchuiu zlobu svoego namereniia. Ona namerenno uderzhala zhivotnoe ot togo, chtoby otpravit'sia s Benom i eio roditeliami v Vermont. Vozmozhno, pozzhe, esli ego ne udastsia razmestit', ona naidet v sebe smelost' usypit' ego, ideia, kotoraia, nesmotria na vsiu moshch' eio reshimosti, pugala eio. Kogda ona vernulas' domoi, telefon zvonil. Ona s trudom perevela dukh, otvechaia na zvonok, v nadezhde, chto eto budet Edvard. Eto byl Deil Martin. "My peresmatrivaem politiku Orsona", -- nachal on posle vezhlivostei. "U vas budet dostatochno komfortnoe polozhenie. Zatem est' isk protiv aviakompanii...." Ona slushala bez interesa. Deil tozhe byl za chertoi. "Ty menia slyshish', Viv'en?" -- sprosil Deil, posle togo kak prodolzhal govorit', ne poluchaia ot neio nikakogo otveta. Ona pochuvstvovala neobkhodimost' burknut' v podtverzhdenie. "Ty okazhesh'sia ochen' ustroennoi vdovoi, rad soobshchit', chto polisy vmeste s strakhovaniem kliuchevykh sotrudnikov firmy sostaviat akkuratnye sem'sot piat'desiat tysiach dollarov, i skoree vsego vy poluchite vdvoe bol'she, kogda aviakompanii vyplatiat." On priostanovilsia. "Ia znaiu, chto eto ne vernet Orsona, no oblegchit vashe lichnoe polozhenie s finansovoi tochki zreniia."
USER
perevedi na literaturnyi russkii iazyk: He seemed to be winding up the conversation, the part that she had been waiting for. "I want none of it," she said firmly. "Put it all in trust for Ben." "Will you say that again?" She did. "That's nonsense," Dale exploded, then softened quickly. "You're still overwrought, Vivien. You're not thinking rationally. We're talking big bucks." "I want only the house and my own savings account." They're the only things that are really mine, she thought. It was she who had chosen the house, decorated it, lavished it with her care. "I'm going to sell it." It was impossible to remove Orson's aura completely. With everything else, the house, too, had to go. "The market is lousy, Vivien. You won't get what it's worth." "We'll see." "Look, Vivien, I'm your lawyer--" "I know. Just set up the trusts. I don't even have to be a trustee." "You can't be serious. In the will, you are the sole inheritor. Orson set it up to protect you." Against what, she wondered. Betrayal is not protection. Remain cool, she told herself. Remembering Orson's year of lies buttressed her decision. To take any money from him or his planning would insult her integrity, her self-respect. Accepting his money was like--she groped for the correct words--like validating evil. "It's not a rational decision, Vivien." "The client is always the boss." Those were Orson's words, which further inflamed her. She wanted to expunge that, too. "Just do it my way," she said, and hung up. No debate was necessary. To placate her anger, she went upstairs and confronted the master bedroom. She threw everything that remained of his, willy-nilly, into compacter bags. Despite the denuding of his possessions, the room still reeked of him. She saw his indentation in the mattress. On the night table next to his side of the bed was a row of books he had liked to read to lull him to sleep. Men's books. Seeing them, she recalled how many of his books and records were still in the house. Some of them seemed even more personally his than his clothes. They would be the next to go. She slid the bags into the compacter and listened to the crushing sounds, to bottles breaking, releasing the mingled scents of cologne and aftershave. Jewelry flattened. He had a little reading lamp for his special use, and she heard the bulb making a popping sound as the compacter's anvil came down. Finally, it was all in one solid rectangle, which she carried out and put in a garbage can. This done, she attacked the books and records, stuffing them into old cartons. She separated the books carefully. Most were his, but the records were mostly hers. It did not amaze her in the least how few of these items were really shared possessions. They had been two strangers living side by side, she thought bitterly as she carried the cartons to the driveway--another bonanza for the Salvation Army. Yet, despite the fury and thoroughness of her efforts, Orson's presence was still tangible in the house. It was as if his persona permeated the air, like the lingering stench of smoke after a household fire. By the time she had dragged the last carton outside, it was dark. Still, she was vaguely dissatisfied, and the tension, instead of dissipating, was accelerating. To calm herself, she poured out half a tumbler of whiskey and drank it down in a few quick swallows. It didn't calm her; instead, she began to sob uncontrollably, overcome with an emotion resembling grief. She knew it was not for Orson. Perhaps it was for the old lost life, which had been just fine with her. If it had been without the shattering complexities of love or passion or whatever emotional earthquakes could occur in this life, it was at least serene, calm, tranquil, safe. That was it. Recovering somewhat, she bent low over the sink and washed her face in the water. She felt unsafe, drifting. Who could possibly understand her state of mind? Only Edward. Reaching for the phone, she dialed his home number. It rang into eternity. Then she hung up in despair. The population of her world was reduced to two. Two survivors. She felt some vague anxiety about his absence. He should have made himself available when she needed him, she thought petulantly. Then she remembered the question she had asked him earlier: "If she had lived, confessed all, would you have forgiven her?" "She didn't," he had answered, stating a truth which testified that all transpired events were inexorable and unchanging. The telephone's ring stabbed into the darkening silence. Edward! No. It was her mother, and she felt a twinge of guilt at her disappointment. She had promised Ben that she would call. Where was Ben? she wondered. On which side of the imaginary line? It was painful to contemplate. Flesh of her flesh. Blood of her blood. If only he were not the image of Orson. A living reminder. Surely such feelings were unnatural. They made her feel very guilty. Yet, she could not deny them. Not to herself.
CHATBOT
On, kazalos', zavershal razgovor, chast' kotorogo ona tak zhdala. -- Mne nichego ot etogo ne nuzhno, -- tviordo skazala ona. -- Vlozhite vsio v doveritel'noe upravlenie na imia Bena. -- Ne mogli by vy povtorit'? Ona povtorila. -- Eto absurd, -- razrazilsia Deil, no bystro smiagchilsia. -- Vy po-prezhnemu nakhodites' v volnenii, Viv'en. Vy ne myslite ratsional'no. My ved' govorim o krupnykh den'gakh. -- Mne nuzhen tol'ko dom i moi lichnyi sberegatel'nyi schiot. Eto edinstvennoe, chto deistvitel'no moio, -- podumala ona. Ved' eto ona vybirala dom, ukrashala ego, obstavliala liubov'iu. -- Ia sobiraius' ego prodat'. -- Nevozmozhno sovsem izbavit'sia ot aury Orsona. Vmeste so vsem ostal'nym prishlo vremia uiti i domu. -- Rynok seichas plokhoi, Viv'en. Vy ne poluchite za nego skol'ko on stoit. -- Posmotrim. -- Slushaite, Viv'en, ia vash advokat... -- Ia znaiu. Prosto ustroite doveritel'noe upravlenie. Mne dazhe neobiazatel'no byt' ispolnitelem. -- Nel'zia tak ser'iozno. V zaveshchanii vy edinstvennyi naslednik. Orson vsio ustroil, chtoby zashchitit' vas. Ot chego, interesno? Predatel'stvo -- eto ne zashchita. Ostavaisia spokoinoi, govorila ona sama sebe. Vspominanie o tom, kak Orson god lgal, ukrepilo eio reshenie. Vziat' den'gi u nego ili blagodaria ego planam -- znachit oskorbit' eio chestnost', eio samouvazhenie. Priniat' ego den'gi bylo by -- ona podbirala pravil'nye slova -- kak chut' li ne opravdat' zlo. -- Eto ne ratsional'noe reshenie, Viv'en. -- Klient vsegda prav. -- Eto byli slova Orsona, kotorye eshchio bol'she eio razdrazhali. Ona khotela izgnat' i eto tozhe. -- Sdelaite vsio tak, kak ia govoriu, -- skazala ona i povesila trubku. Debaty byli ne nuzhny. Chtoby uspokoit' svoi gnev, ona podnialas' naverkh i voshla v glavnuiu spal'niu. Vsio, chto ostalos' ot nego, ona zapikhala, ne razbiraia, v meshki dlia upakovshchika. Khotia komnata byla obezlichena, zapakh ot nego vsio eshchio vital. Ona videla ego vpadinu na matrase. Na tumbochke riadom s ego storonoi krovati stoial riad knig, kotorye on liubil chitat', chtoby usnut'. Muzhskie knigi. Vidia ikh, ona vspomnila, skol'ko ego knig i plastinok vse eshchio ostaiotsia v dome. Nekotorye iz nikh kazalis' eshchio bolee ego sobstvennost'iu, chem odezhda. Sleduiushchimi uidut oni. Ona zasunula meshki v upakovshchik i prislushalas' k zvukam drobleniia, k shumu razbivaiushchikhsia butylok, vysvobozhdavshikhsia smeshannykh zapakhov odekolona i los'ona posle brit'ia. Ukrasheniia spliushchilis'. U nego byl malen'kii nastol'nyi lampa dlia lichnogo pol'zovaniia, i ona uslyshala, kak lampochka lopnula so zvukom, kogda prishiol anvil upakovshchika. Nakonets, vse prevratilos' v odin tverdyi priamougol'nik, kotoryi ona vynesla i polozhila v musornyi bak. Sdelav eto, ona vzialas' za knigi i plastinki, napikhav ikh v starye korobki. Ona tshchatel'no razdelila knigi. Bol'shinstvo byli ego, no plastinki v osnovnom eio. Ei sovsem ne udivitel'no, kak malo etikh veshchei byli deistvitel'no obshchimi. Oni byli dvumia neznakomtsami, zhivushchimi riadom, podumala ona gor'ko, kogda nesla korobki na pod'ezdnuiu dorozhku -- eshchio odna udacha dlia Armii spaseniia. Tem ne menee, nesmotria na iarost' i polnotu eio usilii, prisutstvie Orsona vsio eshchio ostavalos' osiazaemym v dome. Budto ego lichnost' pronizyvala vozdukh, kak zaderzhavshaiasia von' dyma posle domashnego ognia. Kogda ona vytashchila posledniuiu korobku naruzhu, stemnelo. Odnako ona vsio ravno chuvstvovala nekoe neudovletvorenie, i napriazhenie, vmesto togo chtoby oslabet', usilivalos'. Chtoby uspokoit'sia, ona nalila sebe polstakana viski i vypila ego neskol'kimi bol'shimi glotkami. Eto ne uspokoilo eio; naoborot, ona nachala nekontroliruemo rydat', perepolnennaia emotsiei, pokhozhei na skorb'. Ona znala, chto eto ne po Orsonu. Vozmozhno, eto byla skorb' po utrachennoi staroi zhizni, kotoraia ei vpolne nravilas'. Esli ona i byla bez sotriasaiushchikh slozhnostei liubvi ili strasti ili kakikh by to ni bylo emotsional'nykh zemletriasenii, sluchivshikhsia v etoi zhizni, to vse zhe ona byla spokoinoi, bezmiatezhnoi, uiutnoi, bezopasnoi. Vot chto. Opravivshis' nemnogo, ona nagnulas' nad rakovinoi i umyla litso vodoi. Ona chuvstvovala sebia nezashchishchennoi, plyvushchei po techeniiu. Kto mog by poniat' eio sostoianie? Tol'ko Edvard. Dotianuvshis' do telefona, ona nabrala ego domashnii nomer. On zvonil v vechnost'. Zatem ona povesila trubku v otchaianii. Populiatsiia eio mira sokratilas' do dvukh. Dvukh vyzhivshikh. Ona pochuvstvovala tumannoe bespokoistvo o ego otsutstvii. On dolzhen byl byt' dostupen, kogda ona ego nuzhdalas', dumala ona dosadlivo. Potom ona vspomnila vopros, kotoryi zadala emu ranee: -- Esli by ona ostalas' v zhivykh, priznalas' vo vsem, vy by eio prostili? -- Ona ne ostalas', -- otvetil on, konstatiruia istinu, svidetel'stvuiushchuiu o tom, chto vse proizoshedshie sobytiia byli neizbezhny i neizmenny. Zvonok telefona vonzilsia v temneiushchuiu tishinu. Edvard! Net. Eto byla eio mat', i ona pochuvstvovala ton styda iz-za svoego razocharovaniia. Ona poobeshchala pozvonit' Benu. Gde Ben? -- zadalas' ona voprosom. Po kakuiu storonu voobrazhaemoi cherty? Ob etom bylo bol'no dumat'. Plot' ot eio ploti. Krov' ot eio krovi. Esli by tol'ko on ne byl kopiei Orsona. Zhivym napominaniem. Konechno, takie chuvstva byli nenormal'nymi. Oni zastavliali eio chuvstvovat' sil'noe chuvstvo viny. Tem ne menee, ona ne mogla ikh otritsat'. Ne pere Womens Clothing Men's Clothing Customise Your Outfit ezhat' na moment ne pozvolialot sebe.
USER
perevedi na literaturnyi russkii iazyk: The telephone's ring stabbed into the darkening silence. Edward! No. It was her mother, and she felt a twinge of guilt at her disappointment. She had promised Ben that she would call. Where was Ben? she wondered. On which side of the imaginary line? It was painful to contemplate. Flesh of her flesh. Blood of her blood. If only he were not the image of Orson. A living reminder. Surely such feelings were unnatural. They made her feel very guilty. Yet, she could not deny them. Not to herself. "Are you all right, darling?" her mother asked. "Fine. Just getting things settled." "You must be strong, Vivien." "I am, Mother." "Ben is fine," her mother said. She listened as Ben's day was minutely described, as if each moment of his five-year-old life were precious and eventful. He would be in good hands, she knew. As her mother talked, her mind swirled with images of the clear, sweet winter air, the mountains majestic in their coats of snow, frosty windows, rosy cheeks, her father's pharmacy, where she had spent happy teenage afternoons dispensing malts and exchanging the kind of information that needed no computers to store or impart. Ben would surely thrive in that atmosphere. The image assuaged her guilt. "Mommy!" It was Ben's voice suddenly intruding. She had hoped to avoid that. A lump sprang into her throat, preventing her from responding. "Mommy?" "I'm here, darling," she said, clearing her throat. "Isn't it wonderful up there with Grandma and Grandpa?" "Will I go home soon?" The words wrenched at her heart. She heard an echo of Orson's voice, and it jolted her. "You just be a good boy, Ben," she said, shocked at her own reaction. "But when will I go home, Mommy?" Ben said. "I want to be with you and Hamster."
CHATBOT
Zvonok telefona vonzilsia v sgushchaiushchuiusia temnotu. Edvard! Net. Eto byla eio mat', i ona pochuvstvovala ukol viny ot svoego razocharovaniia. Ona obeshchala pozvonit' Benu. Gde zhe Ben? -- razmyshliala ona. Po kakuiu storonu mnimoi cherty? Dumat' ob etom bylo muchitel'no. Plot' ot eio ploti. Krov' ot eio krovi. Esli by tol'ko on ne byl tak pokhozh na Orsona. Zhivoe napominanie. Konechno, takie chuvstva kazalis' protivoestestvennymi. Oni navevali na neio grust'. I tem ne menee, ona ne mogla ikh otritsat'. Po krainei mere, pered samoi soboi. -- Ty v poriadke, dorogaia? -- sprosila eio mat'. -- Vsio v poriadke. Prosto ulazhivaiu dela, -- otvetila Viv'en. -- Ty dolzhna byt' sil'noi, Viv'en. -- Ia sil'naia, mama. -- S Benom vsio v poriadke, -- skazala eio mat'. Viv'en slushala, kak mat' s liubov'iu opisyvala kazhdyi moment iz zhizni eio piatiletnego syna, budto kazhdyi ego den' byl tsenen i napolnen sobytiiami. Ona znala, chto on v nadiozhnykh rukakh. Poka eio mat' govorila, v golove Viv'en voznikali obrazy chistogo, sladkogo zimnego vozdukha, gordo velichestvennye gory v svoikh snezhnykh odeianiiakh, inei na oknakh, rumianye shchioki, apteka eio ottsa, gde ona provela schastlivye podrostkovye dni, nalivaia mal'tovye kokteili i obmenivaias' tem rodom informatsii, dlia khraneniia i peredachi kotoroi ne trebovalis' komp'iutery. Ben nepremenno naidet svoio mesto v takoi atmosfere. Etot obraz umen'shal chuvstvo viny. -- Mama! -- vdrug poslyshalsia golos Bena, vtorgaias' v eio razgovor. Ona nadeialas' izbezhat' etogo. V eio gorle obrazovalsia kom, i ona ne mogla otvetit'. -- Mama? -- Ia zdes', dorogoi, -- skazala ona, preodolevaia khrip v golose. -- Tam ved' zamechatel'no, pravda, s babushkoi i dedushkoi? -- Skoro li ia vernus' domoi? -- ego slova diornuli eio za serdtse. Ona uslyshala otgoloski golosa Orsona, i eto zastavilo eio vzdrognut'. -- Prosto bud' khoroshim mal'chikom, Ben, -- skazala ona, udivlionnaia sobstvennoi reaktsiei. -- No kogda ia vernus' domoi, mama? -- skazal Ben. -- Ia khochu byt' s toboi i Khamsterom.
USER
perevedi na literaturnyi russkii iazyk: It was too awful to put into words, she knew. Too awful to confront. Too illogical and unnatural and hateful and obscene. I can't help myself, she wanted to cry out. When she spoke again, her voice was tremulous. "Mommy has some things she must do"--she hesitated--"first." The extent of her hypocrisy and evasion startled her. Orson's legacy, she told herself. He had crushed her instincts, tangled her emotions. She heard Ben's voice, but she could not find the courage to respond. "Are you all right, dear?" her mother asked in that gentle, concerned tone that had nursed her through childhood sicknesses and the routine traumas of a young girl's life, always a sure-fire remedy. But not now. With Ben off the phone, she regained her composure. "A little strained, Mother." "You shouldn't be there alone." "I need this time, Mother." She caught the insistence in her tone. "I'm not pressing you, dear. We'll keep Ben for as long as you like." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "He's fine. Really he is." She paused, faltered, cleared her throat. Vivien felt the psychic inspection. The woman could always sense danger. Hadn't she called immediately after the plane crash? The thought brought back the full impact of the betrayal, inflaming her again with a monstrous anger. The fury of it roared back on the winds of recent memory. They had just been up for the Christmas holidays. Was it only a few weeks ago? It seemed like eons. The holidays? The joyous reminder retreated in her mind, stoking the ashes of the smoldering anger. He had left the day after Christmas and had returned the day before New Year's Eve. Searching the pattern of past Christmas holidays, in which he stayed the entire time, she remembered that he had done this for the past two Christmases. Busy stuff at the office, he had told her, and it had meant nothing to her, hardly a blip on the screen of her security. He had been so devilishly clever, so devious. The full fury of her humiliation roared back at her. Orson had trampled on her most highly prized virtue: her sense of trust. He had had to deceive not only her and Ben but her parents, abusing their admiration and pride in Orson as a son-in-law. In a way, the deception had even encapsulated their town, Vermont, and New England, defaming the images and memories that she held so dear. And the Christmas spirit as well, its goodness and innocence. "I think maybe you should register Ben in day school, Mother." "Day school?" "I think that would be best." She waited as the implication settled in her mother's mind. "You don't think that would be disruptive?" Her mother's tone brightened. "Unless you're planning to come up and be with us?" "I've made no plans," she said, conscious of her coldness. "He's your child," her mother said with a sigh. "Please remember that." Vivien remained deliberately silent, waiting for her mother to continue, certain of her reaction. "Of course, I'll do whatever you say. I suppose it will be the best thing for him under the circumstances." "Yes, it will, Mother." She drew a deep breath. Before she said goodbye, she said, "And kiss Ben for me." How often would she be saying that? she wondered.
CHATBOT
Bylo slishkom strashno voplotit' eto v slova, ona znala. Slishkom strashno stolknut'sia s etim. Slishkom nelogichno, protivoestestvenno, nenavistno i nepristoino. "Ia ne mogu spravit'sia sama s soboi", -- khotela ona vskrichat'. Kogda ona zagovorila snova, eio golos drozhal. -- Mamochke nado snachala sdelat' nekotorye veshchi, -- ona zamialas', -- v pervuiu ochered'. -- Stepen' eio litsemeriia i uklonchivosti porazila eio samu. Nasledie Orsona, ubezhdala ona sebia. On podorval eio instinkty, zaputal eio chuvstva. Ona slyshala golos Bena, no ne mogla naiti v sebe smelosti otvetit'. -- Vsio v poriadke, dorogaia? -- mat' sprosila tem nezhnym, zabotlivym tonom, kotoryi leleial eio cherez detskie bolezni i obydennye travmy zhizni iunoi devushki, nezamenimoe lekarstvo. No ne seichas. Smushchionnaia, ona snova obrela samoobladanie. -- Nemnogo napriazheno, mama. -- Ne stoit byt' tam odnoi. -- Mne nuzhno eto vremia, mama. -- Ona ulovila nastoichivost' v svoiom tone. -- Ia ne davliu na tebia dorogaia. My budem derzhat' Bena stol'ko, skol'ko vam ugodno. Eio golos zvuchal tishe. -- On v poriadke. Po-nastoiashchemu v poriadke. -- Ona zamolchala, zapnulas', proiasnila golos. Viv'en chuvstvovala eio dushevnyi dopros. Zhenshchina vsegda chuvstvovala opasnost'. Razve ona ne pozvonila srazu posle krusheniia samoliota? Eta mysl' probudila polnuiu silu predatel'stva i snova vozbudila eio ogromnuiu iarost'. Gnev vozvratilsia na vetrakh nedavnikh vospominanii. Oni tol'ko chto priekhali na Rozhdestvenskie kanikuly. Bylo eto vsego lish' neskol'ko nedel' nazad? Kazalos', chto eto bylo tysiacheletiia nazad. Prazdniki? Radostnoe napominanie otstupilo v eio soznanii, podduvaia ugli tleiushchego gneva. On uekhal na sleduiushchii den' posle Rozhdestva i vernulsia v kanun novogodnei nochi. Proanalizirovav khronologiiu proshlykh rozhdestvenskikh kanikul, kogda on ostavalsia ves' period, ona vspomnila, chto poslednie dva Rozhdestva on delal tak zhe. Dela na rabote, govoril on, i eto ei pokazalos' ne tak vazhnym, edva kolykhnulo eio oshchushcheniia bezopasnosti. On byl tak iskusno khitior, tak kovaren. Vse eio unizheniia vnov' obrushilis' na neio. Orson nastupil na samuiu tsennuiu eio chertu: eio chuvstvo doveriia. On dolzhen byl obmanut' ne tol'ko eio i Bena, no i eio roditelei, prenebrezhitel'no ispol'zovav ikh voskhishchenie i gordost' Orsonom kak ziatem. V kakoi-to stepeni obman dazhe okhvatil ikh gorod, Vermont i vsiu Novuiu Angliiu, pozoria obrazy i vospominaniia, kotorye ona tak dorozhila. I dukh Rozhdestva tozhe, ego dobrotu i nevinnost'. -- Dumaiu, vy dolzhny zapisat' Bena v detskii sad, mama. -- V sad? -- Dumaiu, eto budet luchshe. -- Ona podozhdala, poka osmyslitsia eto predlozhenie v golove eio materi. -- Ne kazhetsia li tebe, chto eto ego sil'no potrevozhit? -- ton eio materi prosvetlel. -- Razve ty ne sobiraesh'sia priekhat' i byt' s nami? -- Ia nichego ne planirovala, -- skazala ona, osoznavaia svoiu kholodnost'. -- Eto tvoi rebionok, -- vzdokhnula mat'. -- Pomni ob etom, pozhaluista. Viv'en upriamo molchala, ozhidaia prodolzheniia ot materi, uverennaia v eio reaktsii. -- Konechno, ia sdelaiu vsio, kak ty govorish'. Polagaiu, eto budet luchshim resheniem dlia nego v takikh usloviiakh. -- Da, eto budet tak, mama. -- Ona vdokhnula gluboko. Prezhde chem skazat' <<do svidaniia>>, ona dobavila: -- I potselui Bena ot menia. -- Kak chasto ona budet eto govorit'? -- zadumalas' ona.
USER
sdelai literaturnyi perevod na russkii iazyk: She hung up and lay back on the couch, looking at the ceiling, fighting off the phantoms of guilt. Of course, she had Orson's memory to help her with that.
CHATBOT
Ona povesila trubku i otkinulas' na divane, gliadia v potolok, borias' s privideniiami chuvstva viny. Konechno zhe, v etoi bor'be ei pomogala pamiat' o Orsone.
USER
sdelai literaturnyi perevod na russkii iazyk: Edward was thankful that the streets leading back to the Rayburn Building were deserted. It was not danger that concerned him. He was already a victim. Inexplicably, his principal fear was that others would notice his shame. He had to see Vivien. Only Vivien could share this new knowledge. Only Vivien would understand. He passed a phone booth, started to dial her number, then aborted the call. The information was too raw. It needed time to be sifted, mulled over, sorted out, perhaps softened. He did not want to overburden her with both the hurt and the complexity of dealing with it. It might have too many implications that would associate the pain with him, the way he now felt about McCarthy, who was, after all, only the bearer of the awful message. There was also something terribly personal about the information-- all those biological implications, the phenomenon of procreation. He had always been put off by the clinical details of conception. Yet between couples, he and Lily included, the subject and practice was unavoidable. Wasn't creating life, progeny, a central issue in a marriage? By the time he reached his car in the parking lot, he could not bear the thought of going home. Home was no longer a concept that existed; it was hardly even a place. Tomorrow, he decided, he would give notice, sell everything but the clothes on his back. In his heart he felt a malevolent desire to set the place afire, obliterate all evidence of his life with Lily. What McCarthy had told him had to be shared with Vivien. She could not, nor would she want to, be spared the knowledge. It was part of the truth. And wasn't the truth going to be the ultimate cure? He called her from a phone in the parking lot. She answered on the first ring, as if she had been waiting. "I must see you," he said. "Of course." He was greatly relieved. She gave him careful directions to her house. "Have you eaten?" "No." Swallowing, he tasted the sour backwash of the Scotch. "I'll pull something together." "Brace yourself," he said before he hung up. It was unfair, gratuitous. She had offered no response. Brace herself for what? It seemed a male dilemma. Whose child was it? He searched his mind for answers, some definitive certainty. Finding none, he concentrated on his driving, observing that he had not yet reached the edge of sobriety. In the dark there was not much he could see of the outside of the house, except that it was rather large, set back, and surrounded by tall, dark evergreens. He felt a twinge of jealousy. Orson was more successful than himself, obviously wealthier. Before he could ring the bell, she opened the door and ushered him in. She seemed to survey him purposefully, inspecting him for hints of information. He let her do it, offering a shrug and a smile.
CHATBOT
Edvard byl blagodaren za to, chto ulitsy, vedushchie obratno k zdaniiu Reiberna, byli pustynny. Ego ne bespokoila opasnost'. On uzhe byl zhertvoi. Neob'iasnimo, no glavnym ego strakhom bylo to, chto drugie mogli zametit' ego pozor. Emu nuzhno bylo uvidet' Viv'en. Tol'ko Viv'en mogla razdelit' eto novoe znanie. Tol'ko Viv'en poimiot. On prokhodil mimo telefonnoi budki, nachal nabirat' eio nomer, no prekratil zvonok. Informatsiia byla slishkom svezhei. Ei nuzhno bylo vremia, chtoby eio perebrat', obdumat', uporiadochit', vozmozhno, smiagchit'. On ne khotel peregruzhat' eio i bol'iu, i slozhnost'iu obrashcheniia s nei. U neio moglo poiavit'sia slishkom mnogo assotsiatsii, kotorye sviazali by bol' s nim samim, tak zhe kak on seichas dumal o Makkarti, kotoryi, v kontse kontsov, byl tol'ko vestnikom strashnoi novosti. Takzhe bylo chto-to kraine lichnoe v etoi informatsii -- vse eti biologicheskie sledstviia, fenomen prodolzheniia roda. Detali klinicheskogo zachatiia vsegda ottalkivali ego. Tem ne menee, u par, vkliuchaia ego i Lili, tema i praktika byli neizbezhnymi. Razve ne sozdanie zhizni, potomstva, iavliaetsia kliuchevym voprosom v brake? K momentu, kogda on dobralsia do svoei mashiny na parkovke, on ne mog vynesti mysli o vozvrashchenii domoi. Dom bolee ne sushchestvoval kak poniatie; eto dazhe ne bylo mestom. Zavtra, reshil on, on dast uvedomlenie o svoiom ukhode, prodast vsio, krome odezhdy na svoiom tele. V glubine dushi on chuvstvoval zlobnoe zhelanie podzhech' dom, unichtozhit' vse svidetel'stva svoei zhizni s Lili. To, chto Makkarti emu rasskazal, nuzhno bylo podelit'sia s Viv'en. Ona ne mogla i ne zakhotela by ostat'sia v nevedenii. Eto byla chast' pravdy. I razve ne pravda dolzhna byla byt' okonchatel'noi panatseei? On pozvonil ei s telefona na parkovke. Ona otvetila s pervogo zvonka, kak budto zhdala. -- Mne nuzhno uvidet'sia s vami, -- skazal on. -- Konechno. On pochuvstvoval oblegchenie. Ona dala emu tochnye ukazaniia, kak dobrat'sia do eio doma. -- Vy chto-nibud' eli? -- Net. -- Glotnuv, on pochuvstvoval kisluiu otryzhku ot viski. -- Ia prigotovliu chto-nibud'. -- Soberites' s mysliami, -- skazal on pered tem, kak povesil trubku. Eto bylo nespravedlivo, bespochvenno. Ona ne otvetila. Sobrat'sia s mysliami podgotovit'sia k chemu? Eto kazalos' muzhskoi dilemmoi. Chei zhe eto rebionok? On prochiosyval svoi um v poiskakh otvetov, kakoi-nibud' okonchatel'noi uverennosti. Nichego ne nakhodia, on sosredotochilsia na vozhdenii, zamechaia, chto eshchio ne dostig trezvosti. V temnote emu ne udalos' khorosho razgliadet' dom snaruzhi, krome togo, chto on byl dovol'no bol'shoi, otstoial i byl okruzhion vysokimi tiomnymi vechnozelionymi derev'iami. On pochuvstvoval pristup revnosti. Orson byl bolee uspeshen, ochevidno, bogache. Prezhde chem on nazhal na zvonok, ona otkryla dver' i vpustila ego vnutr'. Ona, kazalos', osoznanno rassmatrivala ego, osmatrivaia na predmet namiokov informatsii. On pozvolil ei eto sdelat', predlozhiv lish' pozhimanie plech i ulybku.
USER
sdelai literaturnyi perevod na russkii iazyk: "It doesn't ever end," he said. "Someday, maybe." He took off his coat. Entering the living room, he looked for the bar. Some bottles stood on a cart. "Help yourself." "I've been on Scotch tonight. With an Irishman in an Irish bar, drinking Scotch." He felt like blurting it out. Instead, he drank half of what he had poured. "I've been separating the wheat from the chaff," she said, explaining what she had done about Orson's things, his clothes, and the dog. "The dog, too!" he exclaimed. "It was more his than mine." "I know what you mean. I'm giving up the apartment." If she had heard, she gave no sign, absorbed in her own enmity. "Also the insurance. I've declined the insurance and everything that comes out of any suits. I'm going cold turkey." It hadn't occurred to him as yet. "It makes me feel cleansed," she said. He sat down. From the kitchen came the pungent odor of food cooking. "Meatloaf," she said, noticing his interest. "I'm sorry. It's all I had in the freezer." She had poured herself a sherry and sat opposite him, waiting. "I've braced myself," she said, offering a wan smile. He plunged ahead. There was no point in small talk. First must come the overriding consideration. Finding out. Knowing. A relationship had been built on this mutual purpose. On that alone. Hadn't it? His questioning surprised him. He felt an odd tremor of longing, which he dismissed. Longing for what? For whom? "I was with McCarthy, the detective. I wanted to know how to go ahead with this thing with the keys. You know--to find out how one goes about it." He was stumbling, inarticulate, feeling her eyes on him. He felt ashamed and wanted to tell her to look away. "Dammit, Viv," he said impulsively, "Lily was pregnant. Six weeks with child." To dispel her doubts, he went on, haltingly, to describe McCarthy's attitude, which could only be characterized as hateful. He was convinced the man's information was correct, despite the way it was proffered. Her face registered the same total incomprehension as in her reaction to McCarthy's first revelation. Her body seemed to stiffen as she took the blow. But as he continued to talk, the outward tension eased, and her eyes narrowed, squinting at him as if some psychic myopia were inhibiting her comprehension. "He really thought that by telling us about the possibility of their having an affair, he was doing us a favor," Edward said. "I guess when he saw we were going to peek under the rug anyway, he decided to show what else was swept under it. Something like that." Without comment, she stood up and went into the kitchen. He heard the clatter of dishes and the refrigerator door open and close. When she came back, she brought tiny frankfurters on a plate, each skewered with a toothpick. A tremor betrayed her anxiety. She put the plate down on a cocktail table and sat again, in the chair farthest from him. Don't blame me, he wanted to say. She had clasped her hands on her knees.