"Brantingham-OldFreedom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brantingham Juleen)

start again, not after the ones I'd loved had one by one opted for VR and
abandoned me. But I'd have followed Free through the gates of Hell if I had to.

We were near the edge of the diamond when I saw this -- this thing hanging out
over the pitcher's mound. Don't know how to describe it except to say it looked
like a heap of intestines and some kind of lab equipment all folded together; it
was churning and misty, purple as a bruise, hanging close to the ground.

One by one, the dogs were going up to it, taking a hop and getting caught up in
the folds. Then they'd disappear.

The noise was incredible: screams and wails and I don't know what-all, the sound
battering at me and making me want to hunch down. Free felt it, too; his ears
were pressed close to his head but he never slowed down. People were throwing
themselves on the ground, clutching at their dogs' legs. A few tried to hop into
the thing themselves but they were tossed back like they'd been bounced from a
trampoline.

Freedom stopped. *Got to go now,* he said with a sad look. *Good knowing you,
man. Don't forget me.*

Then he jumped, sailing over the heads of a couple of smaller dogs. He looked as
happy as a pup.

My eyes were burning so bad I thought they'd turn to cinders right there in my
skull. But if it killed me, I wouldn't let a tear fall. I lifted my hand, hoping
he could still see me somehow. "Good chasing Free. Be happy. Wherever you're
going you be happy, dammit."

When your heart's been ripped out of you, you bleed but you don't weep.

I turned away, my body on automatic. Wasn't thinking about where I'd go or what
I'd do. I was just one big ache. I didn't look at the others who were going
through what I'd just gone through but I could see them out of the corners of my
eyes: men and boys and women and girls. I never would have guessed there were so
many still in this world, still with enough heart to live with a dog and share
his life. There wasn't any point in talking to them. They couldn't help me and I
couldn't help them.

I veered off to get past the crowd that had built up behind me, detoured around
an old live-oak with branches that rested on the ground like elbows. On the
other side I saw something that turned my stomach so bad I thought I'd vomit. It
was a natural man like me, not a robot, some sort of peddlar, though right up to
that minute I hadn't known there still was such a thing. God knows where he came
from or where he got the things he had or how he'd known there'd be a demand for
them. He had a trundle truck full of stiff, furry objects about the size of Free
when he was a pup. People were coming up to him and sticking their fingers in
the credit slot of the truck and he'd take one of these objects and plonk it in
their arms. It would begin to wiggle and squirm and make yipping noises and lap
at the face of whoever was holding it.