"Arinn Dembo - Sisterhood Of Skin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dembo Arinn)

despite the fact that I'm all meat and no metal.

I'll take the obligatory look at Freedman, although I'm sure there isn't
anything else to find. I'm getting very tired.

A man crossed himself before obeying my orders. Such a familiar gesture that I
stood gaping at him for a few seconds, while he eyed me sidelong his eyes long
dark, dubious. The gesture was so pervasive throughout my childhood and youth
that seeing it ripped me out of time: Spanish women crossing themselves at my
father and me as we ate ice cream in front of the Palace of the Governors. For
a
moment, I felt what my father must have felt; contempt, indifference, shock.
Shame under it all, the nagging shame of one who has surpassed the species in
some grotesque way.

There aren't enough places to lay out cadavers in this scabby little
kitchenette/laboratory. The silkie occupies the operating table, Freedman's
body
I've balanced on the open counter by the sink, I only need the one side
anyway.
Jones is still in the tank, and there shouldn't be any need to lay him out
anywhere, if he'll just cooperate. The tank is unwieldy, blocks the door to
the
lab, who cares? A crowded little den of science.

Damned glad I managed to get a bead on this silkie when she cleared the water.
Of course, I was only being professional; I didn't think I'd hit her, but I
knew
I wouldn't get another shot at her. That's the second time I've been lucky.
It's
statistically unrealistic to expect t he luck I'll need to get away with this
--
these investigations of mine are pure indulgence. I should be carving up fish,
not hunting mermaids.

She doesn't look much like a silkie now. The flippers have become articulated
into five digits, one of which looks distinctly opposable. Coincidence?
Impossible. The bones are much more plastic than previously; they actually
bend
in the middle like green wood. This, in contrast to the first adult Jones
brought in; she had bones like granite. The skull is also softened, unknitted;
it has to be. The thing was growing a new face. I can't imagine how it was
happening but I intend to find out.

I questioned Jones before he was fully awakened from his deep sleep, still
lying
half-buried in the shining shock get of the suspension tank. He stirred feebly
as I wiped the cold jelly from his face and peeled away the mask so that he
could pull his own oxygen.