"Nancy Kress - Maximum Light" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kress Nancy)

He gives me that look they all do, the
Who-let-you-put-on-auniform-and-by-the-way-youтАЩre-not-real-army-anyway-asshole look. But I
ignore that and repeat, "What we got here?" and this time I smile at him, the just-a-hint-of-promise smile,
and he don't resist. They never do. I'm a gorgeous kid.
"We're taking the evacuees back in, in twos. For their pets."
"Their pets?"
"Yeah, sweetheart. The army's just one compassionate subrun." He laughs, but I don't get the joke.
They got a lot of jokes like that, the regulars do, to keep us NSs on the outside. I don't care. We're going in.
"Got your adrenalin up, huh?" the soldier says. "Your little titties erect?" They're not supposed to talk
like that to usтАФsuch fragile youngsters like us, just doing the year of National Service we owe our
countryтАФbut I don't care. I can handle soldiers. And my titties are anything but little.
I laugh, and the soldier moves closer. His eyes gleam. He isn't that old, and not bad looking, but I'm not
in the mood. We're going in.
"Shana," my sergeant calls, "over here. You and Joe hand out gear, help the civilians put it on. Send
them by twos over there."
"On. You aren't keeping me here, are you?" I say. "Instead of going in?"
The sergeant sighs. They handle us with velvet gloves in the NS, not like at all like the rough stuff in the
real army. We're a precious resource, after all, us kids. Fewer of us every year, what with the fertility
crisis. It's all right by me. I smile at my sergeant. That smile.
"Oh, all right, you can go in," she says. "But first get some of these people in gear. Fall to."
I fall to, shouting at Joe to bring over two civvies, pulling two hazard suits off the back of the supply
truck. The civilians are old, of course, but not real feeble fusties, probably no more than fifty. They climb
into the suits with no trouble. The woman, though, don't want to put the helmet on. A lot of people are like
that, scared to seal off their heads. Even some NSs. She stands with her gray hairтАФshe don't dye it, God
knows why not, I sure wouldтАФblowing into her eyes, which are red and swollen.
"It's my cat," she says, almost like she's apologizing to me. "Widdy. Short for Kitty-Widdy,
embarrassing as that is." She smiles at me, almost begging. For what? I don't know her cat from dogshit.
"Please put on the helmet, ma'am," I say. I'm getting a real kick out of sounding in charge, even if I'm
really not.
"When I left the house to go shopping, Widdy only had a little water left in her bowl," the woman
pleads. "And that was two days ago!"
"Yes, ma'am. Please put on the helmet."
"I was out shopping. I wasn't even at home when the train derailed!"
"Yes, ma'am. The helmet, ma'am."
"I. . . can't."
"Then please remove your suit, ma'am, so someone else can wear it to rescue their pet." I'm making
this up as I go along. I love it.
"I . . . can't. What about Widdy?" She looks wildly around, like maybe there's somebody else to go
rescue Widdy. I guess she don't see nobody, because suddenly she jams the helmet over her head. I reach
out and seal it for her. Behind the faceplate, she's crying.
I hope I never get that scared of life.
 I point toward the regular army, and she shuffles off in that direction. Joe and I pull two more sets of
gear off the truck and the sergeant sends another two civvies shuffling toward us. This time they are moldy
oldies, barely strong enough to pull on the damn suits. All around the church parking lot, NS teams are
suiting up civvies. I watch carefully, the whole procedure, to be sure I know how to work it so I actually get
sent in. I'm holding my sergeant to her promise.
Hanging over the parking lot is a huge holosign with the usual government garbage: SHARED
RESPONSIBILITY: TOGETHER WE STAND. Shimmery holo people of all different ages, holding hands
and smiling at each other like morons. Suddenly thick clouds of black smoke blow in our direction, blotting
out the sign. I don't put on my helmet unless I absolutely have toтАФI'd rather soak it all in undigitalizedтАФbut