"Mark S. Geston - The Allies" - читать интересную книгу автора (Geston Mark S)

Embarkation began then and continued for five days after that. The departure
crew then needed another two days to get everyone down and suspended for the
trip, after which they tucked themselves away. Everyone was assured there would
be no dreams.

I was the last one to leave the city and board because I was to be the only one
on the Ship who would be awake during our escape. I briefly entertained the
notion of going aboveground the day we were to leave. There was an unaccounted
hour in the schedule that would have given me enough time to go to the surface
and make a farewell gesture -- like lowering of a flag or a scotch at the bar on
MeN carey Street I'd usually gone to when my handlers let me out for an evening.

It was impractical. The city was by then populated by decoy robots radiating
human infrared signatures, exhaling the correct mix of respiratory gases,
driving our vehicles and inhabiting our homes and offices to simulate our
commerce, so the enemy might be deceived for another day. I would only get in
their way. I wondered if there were robotic clogs on the surface too,
accompanying their aluminum-limbed masters, and if they would treat their
electrical companions better than Bates and the rest of us had treated their
prototypes.

Dutifully, I rode the lifts down to the building cavern's floor. The Ship was
above me, filling the cavern. This is mine, I thought, and made myself believe
that our voyage's success or failure had already been decided by forces beyond
my control. Eight hundred thousand people, and only one other Ship has gotten
away! Fatalism is indistinguishable from courage when regarded from the outside,
and this reassured me when I wondered as I walked the kilometer to the entryway
if the enemy, if the robots in the city above me, or the ghosts of the dogs
recently killed by their masters were watching. Of course the Ship's Minds
themselves were, through her myriad sensors, judging their Captain, wondering if
he could be trusted.

I walked up the ramp and the hangar door hissed shut behind me. Then it was
quiet, except for the soft, reassuring voice of the Ship's Minds whispering from
my bracelet and from each wall and bulkhead I passed, gently scolding me for
having cut things so closely. A transport pallet glided up behind me and I
allowed it to convey me through the Ship's corridors and lifts to my station. I
was told that the sky and the space above America was quiet. The enemy was still
picking through the wreckage of the Third Ship or returning from their failed
pursuits of the Fourth. The Ship's Minds expressed cautious optimism. Just to
me, I thought. Not to any of the others. This is our own secret.
I got onto my couch and waited, already as alone as I would be in space. There
are only people here, and their creations. No dirt or insects. The dust in their
clothing as they came on board has been precisely measured. No plants, bacteria
or fungi are here that are not required for agriculture, manufacture or
recycling. Certainly no animals. Even if we had room and thought they should
come with us, they all turned traitor and fled to the enemy long before now.
Except the dogs, and they've either been put down or deserted.