"David Brin - Senses Three and Six" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brin David)

must have gone mad!
What have I been doing, letting myself think like that? How long did I lapse? I
look at my watch. No watch. I don't wear one anymore. What's wrong with me!
Calm down. You've only been intellectualizing since the beginning of the set. Too
little time to do any real harm.
Besides, it's not proven They can put a tracer on subvocalized thought. That was
just a theory.
Still, maybe they can. So cut the two-dollar words, hmmm? When did philosophy
ever do anybody any good anyway?
Joey asks me to help him move a keg. Sure. Anything's better than standing here
thinking. The crowd is too well behaved to serve as a distraction.
Down at the other end of the bar we heave the monster onto the platform.
Straightening up, I rub the grease off my hands and look around the room. That's
when I see her.
She stands by the door; the coldness comes over me like an Amarillo norther. I
cringe a little, momentarily thinking to make myself invisible as she peers around,
blinking in the sharp light of the stage spots.
But there's no dignified way to make six and a half feet of hair and muscle
transparent. She sees Chuck and smiles and starts to walk over. And while she's
between there and here the magic thing happens again. The coldness leaves me.
She is very pretty, and she moves well.
I try to look busy for a second, checking the place as she comes up beside me.
Joey says hello. She answers him in a low alto voice--friendly, but with a hesitant
sort of nervousness to it.
I didn't put the nervousness there. She had it when I met her, so don't blame me.
I'm not bothered by sky-eyes or fiery mountains now. The Boys are picking out
one of my favorite silly tunes, "Old Joe Clark."


I went down to Old Joe Clark's,
Never been there before.
He slept on a feather bed,
And I slept on the floor.


Oh, fare thee well, Old Joe Clark,
Fare thee well, I'm gone.
 Fare thee well, Old Joe Clark,
Better be movin' on!


She looks up at me.
"Hi."
I look back down at her. "Hi, yourself. How's the nursery?"
"Pretty good today, but we had a late afternoon rush. I hurried home and
changed, but this saleslady came by and I couldn't resist letting her show me some
things. I bought some nice scents so... so... that's why I'm late."
She suddenly looks a little scared, as if she's said something she shouldn't have.
Oh, yes. Chuck hasn't got a sense of smell and hates to be reminded of it. It's true I
haven't been able to pick up anything weaker than a six-day-dead steer in almost two