"Gardner Dozois & Michael Swanwick - Ancestral Voices" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dozois Gardner)

could not smell, of course, but it sensed the smoke as a flicker of ionized charges.
тАЬWhewтАФI really needed that!тАЭ the shorter one said. She sucked in the ions
again, letting them damp down within her lungs. тАЬHere, have a toke.тАЭ
The taller one made a disgusted noise. тАЬIs that what we came out here for? To
get stoned?тАЭ
Silently it moved among the rafters, flowing from brace to joist, and across
the collar beams, until it was in position, directly above its prey. It rested invisibly
over them, and prepared to strike.
The shorter one laughed. тАЬWhat did you expect? I hope you didnтАЩt think I
was going to screw you out in this weather!тАЭ
But they were both sophonts and sophonts were dangerous. It would have to
take both of them to be safe, and it wasnтАЩt at all certain it could do that. Its reserves
of strength were perilously low.
тАЬI thought you had something you wanted to tell me. LetтАЩs go back inside,
okay? ItтАЩs too cold to stand out here smoking that shit.тАЭ
тАЬDamnit, IтАЩm going to need this to get me through the afternoon. Did you see
the way she was eyeing me at lunch?тАЭ
тАЬYeah, well, IтАЩve got a daughter back there in the house and IтАЩd like to
preserve a few of her illusions about her old man for a while longer, okay? So if
youтАЩll excuse me, I donтАЩt see any reason why I should hang around out here in the
cold.тАЭ
And then, incredibly, there was only one! The other sophont slammed out
through the door, and his footsteps faded away rapidly in the falling snow.
It gathered itself together to strike. The distance was not great, and it was
starting from an ideal position. With effort, it suppressed a tremble of excitement in
its stiffening mantle.
The woman below huddled disconsolately in her parka. She sucked in a
lungful of ions, and held them.
It struck.


тАЬGamma, whereтАЩs Candy?тАЭ
The parlor was very quiet without the television or radio onтАФAlma Kingsley
had tried them both (with Desmond coming right behind her and trying them again,
as if she didnтАЩt know how to turn a television set on properly), and they wouldnтАЩt
work right; sunspots or somethingтАФthey had been very bad all this year, with the
Northern Lights stronger and more frequent than sheтАЩd ever known them to be in all
the years since sheтАЩd retired from the magazineтАФhad scrambled all incoming signals.
The phone still wasnтАЩt working either, and Desmond had gotten quite
agitatedтАФuselesslyтАФabout not being able to get in touch with the office. The rest of
the morning had, to say the least, been tense. Desmond had finally retreated into his
work, getting lost in that annoying way that he had, going so deep into it that
nobody, not even Jennifer, not even Stephanie when sheтАЩd been alive, could reach
him.
She put down her copy of Paris Match, and said, тАЬI donтАЩt know, child.
Somewhere in the house, I should imagine. Why donтАЩt you ask your father?тАЭ
тАЬSheтАЩs not in the house,тАЭ the child insisted. тАЬI wanted her to play Barbie-doll
with me, and I looked everywhere.тАЭ
Desmond looked up from a briefcase full of flow charts and printouts and
other tools of his arcane trade. тАЬHmmm?тАЭ he said. And when the problem was