"Peter F. Hamilton - A Second Chance At Eden" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Peter F)

"Fifteen thousand," Dicko said, completely unperturbed. "Please accept the offer, I
urge you as a friend. What I have said is quite true, no matter what motives you assign me.
One day you will lose." He turned to look at me, his expression was almost entreating. "You
are the team's fighter, by nature the most practical. How much confidence do you have in
your own ability? You are out there in the bouts, you have known moments of doubt when
your opponent pulled a clever turn. Surely you do not have the arrogance to believe you are
invincible?"
"No, I'm not invincible. What I have is an edge. Didn't it occur to you to wonder how
come I always win?"
"It has been the cause of some speculation."
"Simple enough; although nobody else could ever use it. You see, I won't lose to the
Urban Gorgons, not while they have Simon as their fighter."
"I don't understand, every bout cannot be a grudge match."
"Oh, but they are. Maybe if the Urban Gorgon team fronted a female fighter I'd think
about taking your money. But I'm virtually unique; none of the other teams I know of use a
female to boost their beastie."
"This is your advantage, your legendary edge, women fight better than men?"
"Motivation is the key," I said. "That's why we use affinity to control the beasts. These
creatures we stitch together have no analogue in nature. For instance, you couldn't take a
brain out of a lion and splice it into Khanivore. For all its hunter-killer instinct a lion
wouldn't be able to make any sense of Khanivore's sensorium, nor would it be able to utilize
the limbs. That's why we give beasties bioware processors instead of brains. But processors
still don't give us what we need. For their program a fight can never be anything more than a
complex series of problems, a three-dimensional chess game. An attack would be broken up
into segments for analysis and initiation of appropriate response moves. By which time any
halfway sentient opposition has ripped them to shreds. No program can ever instil a sense of
urgency, coupled to panic-enhanced instinct. Sheer savagery, if you like. Humans reign
supreme when it comes to that. That's why we use the affinity bond. Beastie-baiting is a
physical extension of the human mind, our dark side in all its naked horror. That's the appeal
your punters have come to worship tonight, Dicko, pure bestiality. Without our proxy
beasties us fighters would be out there in the pit ourselves. We'd kill each other, no two ways
about it."
"And you are the most savage of them all?" Dicko asked. He glanced round the team,
their stony faces, hunting confirmation.
"I am now," I said, and for the first time bled a trace of venom into my voice. I saw the
girl stiffen slightly, her eyes round with interest.
"A year or so back I got snatched by an estate gang. No reason for it, I was just in the
wrong place at the wrong time. Know what they do to girls, Dicko?" I was grinding the words
out now, eyes never leaving his face. His mask was cracking, little fissures of emotion
showing through.
"Yes, you do know, don't you. The gang bang wasn't so bad, there was only two days of
that. But when they finished they started on me with knives. It's a branding thing, making sure
everyone knows how fucking hard they are. So that is why, when the Urban Gorgons send
their Turboraptor out in the pit tonight, I am going to shred that bastard to pieces so small
there's going to be nothing left but a fog of blood. Not because of the money, not even for
the status; but because what I'm really doing is carving up that male shit Simon." I took a step
towards Dicko, arm coming up to point threateningly. "And neither you nor anyone else is
going to stop that happening. You got that, shitbrain?"
One of Khanivore's tentacles began to uncoil, an indistinct motion beneath the murky
surface of the life-support pod.