"Peter F. Hamilton - The Forever Kitten" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Peter F)

simple substitution; the police never knew."

"It's three years old now," I whispered.

"Indeed. Heloise is very fond of it."

"Do you understand what this means? The initial stasis-regeneration procedure is valid. If the kitten is still
alive and maintaining itself at the same biological age after this long, then-in theory it can live forever, just
as it is. The procedure stabilized its cellular structure."

"I understand perfectly, thank you, Doctor. Which is why we intend to keep on funding your research.
We believe that human rejuvenation is possible."

I recognized the greed in his eyes: it wasn't pleasant. "It's still a long way off. This procedure was just the
first of a great many. It has no real practical application, we can't use it on an adult. Once a mammal
reaches sexual maturity its cells can't accept such a radical modification."

"We have every confidence that in the end you'll produce the result we all want."

I turned back to the child with her pet, feeling more optimistic than I had in three years. "I can do it," I
said through clenched teeth. "I can." Revenge, it is said, is best served cold. I could see myself looking
down on the gravestones of those fools in the Bioethics Commission in, say ... oh, about 500 years' time.
They'd be very cold indeed by then.

Joe's affable smile suddenly hardened. I turned, fearing the police had arrived. I'm still very twitchy about
raids.

It wasn't the police. The teenage girl coming out from the house was dressed in a black leather
micro-skirt and very tight scarlet T-shirt. She would have been attractive if it wasn't for the permanent
expression of belligerence on her face; the tattoos weren't nice either. The short sleeves on the T-shirt
revealed track marks on her arms. "Is that..."

"Saskia," Joe said with extreme distaste.

I really wouldn't have recognized his older daughter. Saskia used to be a lovely girl. This creature was the
kind of horror story that belonged on the front page of a tabloid.

"Whatcha starin' at?" she demanded.

"Nothing," I promised quickly.

"I need money," she told her father.

"Get a job."

Her face screwed up in rage. I really believed she was going to hit him. I could see Heloise behind her on
the verge of tears, arms curling protectively around the kitten.

"You know what I'll do to get it if you don't," Saskia said.