"L. Timmel Duchamp - De Secretis Mulierum" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duchamp L Timmel)

against the smallest holes of my clunky metal grater. "Aquinas was a
toweringly
brilliant mind -- and a misogynist to boot. So where do we draw the line,
Jane?
What if we go again, and the PSD shows us Descartes was just pretending to be
male? Or Newton? It's so obvious, something's not right. It's simply
impossible
to know for dead certain that what they're showing us in that holo-tank is
really from our past."

I looked at him, to see if he was serious. "Then where could it have come
from?
You know Marissa isn't playing with you. And they'd need a team of historical
experts to have created that kind of detail." I forgot to pay attention to
what
I was doing, and so shredded my finger. Angrily I dropped the grater and
cleared
the cheese that had blood on it out of the bowl. Then, cursing, I charged for
the bathroom (and collided with Teddy in the hall, of course).

While I washed and bandaged my fingertip, Teddy said: "I'm not saying there's
a
deliberate hoax. But when you start thinking about it, you realize any number
of
crazy explanations could be dreamed up that would still sound saner than this
shit about both Thomas Aquinas and Leonardo being women pretending to be men.
It
would be more credible, for godsake, to claim that aliens were sending us
these
pictures!"

"All those old rumors of Pope Joan," I said half under my breath, knowing I
was
just asking for a lecture on the sexually inadequate fourteenth-century
cardinal
and his reasons for inventing the tale.

He stared at me as if I'd gone mad. "You're thrilled!" he accused me. "You
just
adore the idea that two of the most brilliant minds in European history were
women!" He shook his head. "It's not going to make a damned bit of difference,
Jane. Even if people did accept past-scans as legitimate, it wouldn't change
the
way they think about women." His eyes pitied my simplicity. "Believe me."

I stepped out of my one-person-max bathroom into the hall, making him back
most
of the way into the living room to let me pass again into the kitchen. "Just
suppose," I said. The water was boiling furiously, so I broke linguine into it
as I talked. "Let's play 'what if' for just a second. What if the past-scan