"Jerry Davis - The Moon at Noon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davis Jerry)

on a wing and soared off across town.
The top of another tall building lay below him, down the hill
from Haben Tower, and he could have landed on it had he wished.
Instead he touched the microwave relay antenna on its roof with
the tips of his toes as he flew over, making it wobble, causing a
momentary interruption in someone's data-link. Somewhere in the
building, someone missed a word in a conversation, or lost some
bytes in a data transfer. The thought made him giggle, and he
circled around and waved at the windows, each one filled with
faces and open, gaping mouths. As he did so, the wind caught an
edge of his mask and pulled it off.
His face had been sweating under the mask, and the sudden
blast of cool air was a shock. He turned quickly away from the
windows, dipped the glider and banked, soaring away from the
building. Holy Jesus, he thought. Holy Jesus. Holy holy Jesus. For
the first time since he jumped off the Haben Tower he felt naked.
What am I going to do?
It was like a bad dream.
Heading away from the buildings, Mike continued down the
hill, passing over the City Hall. He circled above it, feeling his
panic fade. Far below, gnat sized people stood around in a parking
lot looking up at him. He was so far up that there was no way they
could see his face, not even with binoculars. Not clearly, at
least. He continued to circle, smiling at the city buildings and
the tiny figures in the parking lot beneath him. City officials,
no doubt, men and women in the public trust, making laws to
protect people from themselves. Seeing something strange in the
sky today? An eclipse perhaps? The moon at noon?
He meandered above the city searching for updrafts. The loss
of his mask still worried him. It made him feel unsure, urged him
to race the glider toward the park for a quick escape. But he had
plenty of elevation, and there were warm updrafts here and there
--- he could stay up for another 30 minutes at least. At the
moment he was deliberately avoiding the park, not wanting to help
any of the authorities who may be tracking him to guess where he
intended to land. As long as Mike maintained his altitude, all it
would take was one long dip, a quick swoop across town, and he
would be at the park --- far faster than anyone in a car or on a
bicycle could follow. I have time, he told himself. Lots of time.
Daring himself, Mike turned into the wind and headed for the
far side of the hill, where the updraft would be the strongest.
The breeze coming in from the West hit the hill and deflected up
at a steep angle. Mike felt for it as he rounded past the
concentric circles of the Country Club, hoping to ease into it as



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