"David G. Hartwell - Year's Best SF 3" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hartwell David G)

over, keeping his airbike below the treetops and following groundtrucks when he
could, pulled along by their wake.
Cold in the barn, thenтАФcold and dustyтАФdust motes dancing in the sunbeams
that stabbed between its old, bent, and battered aluminum panels.
Rex had crouched as he had before, but he was bigger now, bigger than ever, and
his smooth reptilian skin had felt like glass, like ice under which oiled muscles stirred
like snakes. He had fallen, and Rex had picked him up in the arms that looked so tiny
on Rex but were bigger and stronger than a big manтАЩs arms, saying, тАЬThatтАЩs what
these are for,тАЭ and set him on RexтАЩs shoulders with his legsтАФhis legsтАФtrying to
wrap around RexтАЩs thick, throbbing neckтАж
He had opened the big doors from inside, gone out almost crawling, and stood
up.
It had not been the height. He had been higher on his air-bike almost every day. It
had not been his swift, swaying progress above the treetopsтАФtreetops arrayed in
red, gold, and green so that it seemed that he followed RexтАЩs floating head over a
lawn deep in fallen leaves.
It had beenтАФ
He shrugged the thought away. There were no adequate words. Power? You
bought it at a drugstore, a shiny little disk that would run your house-bot for three or
four more years, or your drill forever. Mastery? It was what people had held over
dogs while private ownership had still been legal.
Dogs had four fangs in front, and that was it, fangs so small they did not even
look dangerous. Rex had a mouthful, every one as long as RoderickтАЩs arm, in a
mouth that could have chewed up an aircar.
No, it had not been the height. He had ridden over woodsтАФthis wood among
themтАФoften. Had ridden higher than this, yet heard the rustling of the leaves below
him, the sound of a brook, an invisible brook of air. It had been the noise.
That was not right either, but it was closer than the others. It had been the
snapping of the limbs and the crashing of the trees falling, or at least that had been a
lot of itтАФthe sound of their progress, the shattering, splintering wood. In part, at
least, it had been the noise.
тАЬHe did a great deal of damage,тАЭ the teaching cyborg was saying, as her female
attendant nodded confirmation. тАЬMuch worse, he terrified literally hundreds of
personsтАжтАЭ
Sitting on RexтАЩs shoulders, he had been able to talk almost directly into RexтАЩs
ear. тАЬRoar.тАЭ
And Rex had roared to shake the earth.
тАЬKeep on roaring.тАЭ
And Rex had.
The red and white cattle Rex ate sometimes, so short-legged they could scarcely
move, had run away slowly only because they were too fat to run any faster, and one
had gotten stepped on. People had run too, and Rex had kicked over a little pre-fab
shed for the fun of it, and a tractor-bot. HeтАЩd waded hip-deep through the swamp
without even slowing down and had forded the river.. There were fewer building
restrictions on the north side of the river, and the people there had really run.
Had run except for one old man with a bushy mustache, who had only stood and
stared pop-eyed, too old to run, Roderick thought, or maybe too scared. He had
looked down at the old man and waved; and their eyes had met, and suddenlyтАФjust
as if the top of the old manтАЩs head had popped up so he could look around inside
itтАФhe had known what the old man was thinking.