"Kathleen Ann Goonan - Nanotech 04 - Light Music" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goose Mother)

She could not afford to lose more time. She probably could not
even afford the time it would take to find the right room. They had
taken out sixty-seven percent of the memory of Crescent City,
according to information that lit the floor next to her hands, and
killed many people. Memory, which previously had been equally
distributed throughout the vast structure, was severely
compromised. It had defaulted to an earlier time. But not before
Dania found that her entire lifeтАЩs work on the Theory of Everything
was wiped out. That, as much as anything else, caused this dark
and terrible lethargy.
She sat for a minute, gathering what little strength remained. To
her right sprawled a large dark shape.
It was a body. The head had been severed and was lying in a pool
of congealed black blood that stank.
Shaking, she turned and grabbed a nearby chair; using it to
steady herself, she pushed it along and slid her feet across the
smooth floor.
This , yes, she thought, surprised at having found the right door
on the right floor. It slid open at her approach.
Inside a man sat at a console. He did not glance up. тАЬCome in,
Dania.тАЭ
Heart thudding, she pushed her way inside, tottered around, and
practically fell into her chair. The door closed behind her.
тАЬNo, you donтАЩt have to worry. I amтАжтАЭ The figure turned, and
Dania could not see his face in the shadow. He cleared his throat.
Then he leaned forward into the light and his grin was plain. тАЬIтАЩm
Crescent City Radio Cowboy Shorty. You can call me Cowboy.тАЭ
His voice seemed different than the voice she had heard at first,
filled with the lilt of poetry when before it had been plain, and
defeated. He had short blond hair and a red bandana tied round his
neck. His bare, brown chest shimmered with sweat. His eyes,
deepset beneath a high forehead, were blue. He wore tight faded
jeans with a huge silver belt buckle. A wide hand-tooled leather belt
with two holsters rode low on his hips, and pearl-handled revolvers
shone gently in the faint light. A ten-gallon hat rested on the floor
next to him.
тАЬI kinda like beinтАЩ out and about, know what I mean?тАЭ His voice
was rough but friendly. The grin faded as he stared at Dania.
тАЬSorry, miss. Forgot my manners. YouтАЩre in a hell of a bad way.тАЭ
тАЬYour fault,тАЭ she managed to croak as he gathered her in his
arms and strode across the floor and gently deposited her in a
cocoon. тАЬIf youтАЩre the city, itтАЩs your fault.тАЭ She had had
conversations more than once with personifications of the city, so
this did not seem strange, although the personifications were
always different. She remembered a huge African woman, a jazz
saxophonist, a Rasta fish farmer, a no-nonsense Chilean doctor.
 тАЬNow, now, I warned you.тАЭ His voice was gently chiding. тАЬI fired
warning shots across the bow, so to speak, onтАЭтАФhe held her hand
for a moment and then looked at his palmтАФтАЬ7/14/2074,1/29/75,
want to hear the whole list? It runs well nigh up to my elbowтАФтАЭ