"Bradley-WeLoveLydiaLove" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bradley Denton)

"I know," Lydia says. "I know they hurt you."

Who are "they," I wonder? There was a plane crash, and -- in this new version of
Christopher's life -- a village. A war was being fought in the ice and snow
around the village, but all of my injuries were from the crash. The villagers
did their best for me, but there was no way to get me out until I'd healed, and
no communication with the rest of the world. The soldiers had cut the telecom
lines and confiscated the radios, but had then become too busy fighting each
other to do anything more to the village. So if the soldiers didn't hurt me, and
the villagers didn't hurt me, who are "they"?

There is a "they" in Willie's story, but while what they did to me was painful,
they did it with my consent. Getting my album recorded and released is worth
some pain. It's also worth being Christopher for a while. And it's for damn sure
worth having Lydia Love in my arms.

On the bed. Pin her wrists over her head.

That seems a little rough for a tender homecoming, but I remember that the
Christopher chip is my conscience. I let my conscience be my guide.

I still worry that she'll know I'm not him, but it turns out all right. If
there's a difference between the new Christopher and the old one, she doesn't
seem to be aware of it. The chip tells me a few things that she likes, but most
of the time it's silent. I guess that at some point, sex takes control away from
its participants -- even from Lydia Love and a computer chip -- and instructions
aren't necessary.

She's sweet.

And here I am deceiving her.

But this pang is undeserved. In any respect that matters to Lydia, I am
Christopher. I will live with her, recharge her soul, and give her what she
needs before she sends me away. And then, at last, she'll rise again from the
ashes of her life to resume her work. Willie can be proud of that.

You are Christopher.

Lydia and I have spent most of the past six days in bed. It's been a repeating
cycle: Tears, sex, a little sleep, more sex, and food. Then back to the tears.
According to what Daniels and the Christopher chip have told me, everything with
Lydia goes in cycles.

But this particular cycle has to be interrupted, because we've run out of food.
Despite her huge house, Lydia has no hired help; and since no one will deliver
groceries this far out in the Hill Country, one or both of us will have to make
a trip to Kerrville. But Lydia isn't supposed to leave the estate alone without
calling CCA-Austin for a bodyguard. . .and if she were to go out with me, the
hassle from the videorazzi would be even worse than usual. The headlines would