"Nina Kiriki Hoffman - The Pulse of the Machine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hoffman Nina Kiriki)

The Pulse of the Machine
Nina Kiriki Hoffman
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for Jay Sheckley, who knows where to cut

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Pool balls click against each other like the rattle of dried bones. Cigarette smoke hazes the air, mixing
with the less-visible scents of pizza, nachos, lime, alcohol, and humanity. I hear the distant trills and
warbles of video games, like the territorial cries of birds. Heat outlines the people in the bar. Their
emotion-scent hangs below the ceiling with the smoke. Mostly it is a battling mix of relief, joy, sexual
excitation, relaxation; but there is a constant undercurrent of fear and worry because of the Slasher. On
the Friday before spring break, all the college students who havenтАЩt left Paradise, Idaho, for the week are
crowded into the Side Pocket. They feel safe in the bar, but they know that later they will leave this
haven and go out into darkness.

I tilt my glass and touch my tongue to the liquid. It bites me, a playful nip, then vanishes before I can taste
it back. A cue stick clicks against a ball, then a cascade of clicks, and the muffled thunk of balls hitting
cushions, dropping into pockets. I look across the table at Anitra, my best human friend, and say, тАЬDid
you play with bones as a child?тАЭ

тАЬHow do you play with bones?тАЭ She sounds distracted. She has ditched her boyfriend, Philip, tonight and
I am happy about that. I donтАЩt like him. Maybe she no longer likes him either. Our table stands behind a
railing on a platform. We sit in darkness, the pool tables green islands of light to one side, the bar dim
glimmers of curved light on bottles to the other. In a back corner a large-screen television shows big
people in helmets clashing on too-green grass. The bartenders, faces lit from below by work-lights under
the lip of the bar, build drinks and murmur to customers. Anitra focuses on the people with the sticks
who lean under the lights and tap jewel-colored balls.

I play tag with my drink again and more of it creeps inside me. It is my third drink. I have never tasted
alcohol before. The heat in my throat, the flush that raises the hair on my arms, these things remind me of
change. I didnтАЩt know humans knew what that felt like. I smile at Anitra. тАЬYou want to crunch the bones
up and lick the marrow out, but some bones are just too big.тАЭ

She glances at me, her eyebrows up. People behind us cheer because of something they see on
television.

тАЬItтАЩs the little ones, though, that are fun to play with. My brother Emelya and I had our favorites. We
gave the big ones to the younger litter to teach them prey scent, but the little onesтАжтАЭ

тАЬYouтАЩre making me sick,тАЭ says Anitra.

I laugh. I lift my glass to toast the memory of my brother, then finish my drink. тАЬMy grandmother tosses
the little vertebrae and tells fortunes from how they fall.тАЭ

тАЬYouтАЩre drunk,тАЭ says Anitra, reaching for my empty glass.

I consider extending a claw to protect my property, but my territorial imperatives have relaxed with my
inhibitions. I let her wrest the glass from me. I lean back, enjoying the chairтАЩs cushioned curves, and turn