"Samuel R. Delany - High Weir" - читать интересную книгу автора (Delaney Samuel R)

technology without ever employing written communication, sort of the same way
the Incas and Mayas reached their cultural level and still managed totally to bypass
the invention of the wheel. If that is the case, Rimky, that makes you sort of useless
on this expedition. I could see that getting to you, upsetting you."

He could tell she was waiting for some great reaction of relief now that a truth had
outed. How did she expect to detect it? Perhaps the change in breathing would
come through the suit phones. He tried to remember who she was. But there were
all seven hundred and fifty-odd enzyme reactions to think about, to make sure that
one of them didn't suddenly stop.тАж

"You know," she was going on (Hodges? Yes, it was the Hodges woman). "I'm really
the useless one on the expedition. You know what my talent is? I'm the one who
can make friends with all sorts of Eskimos and jungle bunnies. And then there were
the mountain cannibals in the Caucasus who wanted to make me their queen." She
laughed metallically. "They certainly did. I don't care if I never see another piece of
decayed yak butter again as long as I live. Rimky, I'm here just in case we run into a
tribe of live Martians." She looked out across the barren copper. After a few more
moments she said, "I think you'd pretty well agree there's a good deal more chance
you'll find Martian writing than I'll find the models for those carvings up there,
wandering around in nomadic tribes. And what's more, it does get under my skin. I
guess, being on edge like that, I've occasionally said some things, some of them to
you, I'd have best held in. If you've got a skill or a discipline, you want to use it. You
don't want to drag it halfway across the solar system because there's a
one-in-a-thousand chance somebody might just want a minute of your time." She
patted his forearm. "Am I anywhere near it?"

Rimkin thought: Live Martians? If I were a live Martian, then I wouldn't have to worry
about the seven hundred and fifty enzyme reactions that keep the human body
alive. But then, there'd be others, different ones, even more complicated, even
more dangerous, because they have to function over a much wider temperature
range. Am I a Martian? Am I one of those strange creatures I watched in the beam
of my flash walking the strange alleys with the garnet-colored walls, driving their
beasts and greeting one another with incomprehensible gestures? But this woman,
which one is she? "Where's Jimmi тАж?" Rimkin asked.

He heard Hodges start to say something; then she decided not to and began the
complicated maneuver of her prostheses to stand. "Can you walk, Rimkin? I think I'd
better get you back to the skimmer."

"The skimmer тАж? Oh, yes. Of course. It's time to go back to the skimmer, isn't it?"

He ached. All over his body, he ached. But he managed to stand, thinking, Why does
it hurt so? Perhaps it's one of the seven hundred reactions starting to fail, and I'm
going to тАж

"Let's hurry up," Hodges urged. "If you've been out here all night, you're probably on
the third time through your air. I bet it's stale as an old laundry bag in there."

Rimkin started slowly across the stones. But Hodges paused. Suddenly she bent