Цитаты из книги The Anomaly

It’s somewhat illegal to enter a cave in the Grand Canyon without permission. And when I say ‘somewhat’ I mean ‘totally,’ in a ‘this is an actual criminal offense’ sense.

You received collateral salvation.

It’s never the world at large you want to prove yourself to. It’s someone in particular. Doesn’t matter how old you get, you’re still hoping for Mom or Dad to kiss you on the head.

“Well, don’t be long. There is a shower, much alcohol, and a cheeseburger the size of my head waiting for me back at the hotel. All of these things are critical to my future well-being, and you fuck with the prospect at your peril.”

And it was dark. Doesn’t matter how old you get or how much creeping around you’ve done in cemeteries or abandoned insane asylums and other places of self-evident spookiness in pursuit of halfway-watchable online viewing; the dark is the dark is the dark.

Foot by foot I went up, until the opening was just above me. I am familiar enough with the playful ways of the gods, however, that I made doubly sure every hand- and foothold was secure as I covered the remaining distance.

There was also the prospect of the climb. I’m not super fond of heights. They can be very high. And there was also the prospect of not failing, for once.

“Jesus. Was it the chance to be openly hostile to everyone that first drew you to journalism?” She laughed. “No. That’s just a bonus.” “Then what?” “Trying to put the world right.” “Ah, how noble.”

“There’s simply no way we can get back to civilization today?” Ken asked. Dylan shook his head. “Not a chance.” Ken nodded decisively. “In that case I have adjusted my goals, as follows. I need a drink and a piss, and then several more drinks. You’re either with me or against me. Bearing in mind I sign the checks, I’d advise you all to be with me.”

Ken looked the same as usual, but he usually looks like shit—albeit a robust type of shit that stands up and holds out his hand for a cup of coffee and starts dealing with the world as if waking with sand in your hair at the bottom of the Grand Canyon is business as usual.

I winked at Ken. “Ah well. Shame not to get the shot of me falling in that I suspect you were hoping for.” “Yeah,” he said. “But there’s always next time. You can run, mate, but you can’t hide.”

I’ve always been of the opinion that if a hike takes longer than, say, forty minutes, there’s an argument you should have parked closer to your destination.

I took the meeting, was polite and professional and did not stab her with a pen

I tried, as usual, not to look like a craggy middle-aged man who exercises but not quite enough.

"Good work, everyone. Except you, Nolan. You were shit.” “Thanks.”

or something discovered on a distant planet where they built everything on a more expansive scale, under the direction of gods with a bigger budget.

"Bollocks. This time of day you normally look like you’ve been exhumed. By an amateur. But this morning it’s like you think you’ve discovered a reason to keep on living. Which is an illusion, incidentally. Heed the tiny demons and their wheedling voices. End it all." “Ken, I’m not killing myself so you can claim the insurance. We’ve discussed this.” “Never been a team player, have you, mate.”

I’m sitting in a hotel room twenty miles from the Grand Canyon. From my window I can see the lamps of the parking lot, and beyond it, darkness shrouds mile upon mile of the great desert: a forbidding environment that deflects mankind’s gaze—and, I believe, cradles secrets waiting to be told.

Go do your thing—and make it good. Then get some sleep. Lots of on-camera time for you tomorrow on the hike down. It’d be good if you didn’t look deceased.

Remember that MediaBlitz piece on you last year?” “Not after all the therapy I had afterward, no.”