"Victor Koman - Death's Dimensions" - читать интересную книгу автора (Koman Victor)

soothing, cool blue glow. The woman drew no calm from the psychological
color cue. She strode toward an appointment with the destiny of the
human race and saw little pleasure and even less comfort in the knowledge
that EarthтАЩs best hope was entombed in an asylum.
тАЬOne more thing,тАЭ the huge orderly added. тАЬIf he frightens you, tell him
so. Be firm and polite and exceedingly honest.тАЭ
тАЬStraight,тАЭ she said in agreement.
He touched his scan finger to the lockscrim. тАЬAnd never turn your back
on him.тАЭ
She swallowed. Her throat scraped like sandpaper against brick.


He had spent so many years in the same creme-white room that he
thought he could detect sounds through the soundproof padding.
The familiar footsteps of the orderly intermingled with another lighter
set.
Two sets of footsteps, Virgil thought. Mad images and personalized
symbols trickled through his fragmented thoughts like rain through desert
sands.
Marsface is coming here. He still favors the right leg I bit so long ago.
He clumps and slides beside a pair of feet that move lightly and quickly.
He twisted about to face the door. Wrapped more than snugly in gauze
bandages that restrained him from head to toe, Virgil Grissom Kinney
squirmed on the floor with all the grace of an arthritic caterpillar. His
psychotic mind picked through an alien host of archetypes in a frenzied
effort to make sense of his narrow world.
The other walks on soft, quick feet. Sent by Master Snoop. Master
Snoop knows IтАЩve figured the way out. The machinery inside the ceiling
is up there watching me. Master Snoop never slumbers. The wires in my
head spy for him.
Kinney rolled about to stare at the blank wall. Indirect lighting bathed
the room in a soft, soothing golden glow. A slender trapezoidal shadow
suddenly cut across the surface of the padding. Silently, the roomтАЩs only
door opened inward.
Mental Health Technician William Bearclaw entered, scrimboard in
hand. His short black hair crested in a delta-sweep cut that was three
years out of style. Tall and husky, he ducked his head to clear the lintel of
the thickly padded doorway.
Virgil had no knowledge of styles, fads, or even dates. He only saw
madness and tried to make sense of it.
Marsface. I knew it, didnтАЩt I? Same MarsfaceтАФhead like a red planet
with its ridges and craters and mole-mountains, a nose like Olympus
Mons.
Virgil stared at the other visitor, puzzled.
Though tall, she stood a head shorter than Bearclaw; high heels plus
long black hair piled up Grecian style failed to bring her up to his height.
A single thick rope of hair extended from the plaits to wrap once around
her neck. The roughsects hair-style had grown in popularity from its
origin in a small sado-masochistic sex cult to its fashionable apex in polite
society. The roughsects, seeing their style embraced by outsiders, had long