"Fitch-SarahAtTheTidePool" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fitch Marina)

paused at his crotch, wondering if the man was devoid not only of a heart but of
other traces of humanity as well. She looked him in the eye. "All right," she
said. "I'll develop the skin for you. But I'll need to run tests on the person
I'll be grafting."

Jason hopped from the counter. His shoes slapped the linoleum. "She's waiting in
the lounge down the hall."

"Wait, how soon -- "Sarah caught at his arm, then pushed him away, startled at
the contact. Jason wheeled to look at her, surprised. Sarah curled into herself,
lifting her chin. "How soon do you expect me to have this finished?"

"Not till early summer. Say, end of May, early June."

"I don't know if I can --"

"I know about your prototype, Sarah."

She shook her head. "But two months --"

"You can do it, Sarah. You will do it." He walked briskly to the door.

Sarah paced before the aquarium. Her mind sped through every process and
experiment that had produced the skin. Yes, she could do it. The prototype
needed few improvements and the glands --

She turned when the lab door clicked open. Jason escorted a young woman in by
the elbow. Sarah scored her palms with her nails. A tall woman, the assassin
strolled into the room, her thick waist and round, pert bottom accentuated by
her stride. In stature and in build, she was similar to Richard's lab tech --
except for her mane of red hair.

Sarah glances over her shoulder again. A lone figure appears on the horizon,
wavering like a mirage. Sarah turns again to the tide pool. She hugs her knees,
resting her chin between them as she stares into the water. A transparent fish
no bigger than her little toe darts across the pool, brushing the tentacles of
the larger anemone. The anemone closes on the fish, clasping its prize in its
fist of stinging fingers.

Celeste sat beside the flotation tank, her right arm submerged in the buoyant
fluid. Wired dermals dotted her forearm like moles. "So why did he leave you, he
ever tell you?" she asked.

"Sort of," Sarah said. She liked Celeste's Sunday visits, even though the other
woman insisted on bringing up painful topics. Sarah touched Celeste's arm above
the elbow. "Move your arm. I want to see if the graft is taking."

Celeste twisted her arm, the gel coating her forearm translucent, glistening.
"How long before it becomes skin?"