"Geoffrey A. Landis - Approaching Perimelasma" - читать интересную книгу автора (Landis Geoffrey A)

approaching perimelasma
GEOFFREY A. LANDIS
A physicist who works for NASA and who has recently been working on the
Martian Lander program, Geoffrey A. Landis is a frequent contributor to Analog
and to AsimovтАЩs Science Fiction, and has also sold stories to markets such as
Interzone, Amazing, and Pulphouse. Landis is not a pro-lific writer by the
high-production standards of the genre, but he is popular. His story тАЬA Walk in
the SunтАЭ won him a Nebula and a Hugo Award in 1992, his story тАЬRipples in the
Dirac SeaтАЭ won him a Nebula Award in 1990, and his story тАЬElementalтАЭ was on
the final Hugo ballot a few years back. His first book was the collection, Myths,
Legends, and True History, and he has just sold his first novel, Mars Crossing. He
has a Web site at http://www.sff.net/people/Geoffrey.Landis. He lives in Brook
Park, Ohio.
Here he takes us along on a suspenseful and hair-raising cosmic ride in
company with an intrepid future adventurer bound for someplace nobody has ever
gone before: a headlong plunge into a black hole, and out of it againтАФif he can
figure a way to get out of it, that is, with all the forces of the universe against him.
...

****

There is a sudden frisson of adrenaline, a surge of something approaching terror (if I
could still feel terror), and I realize that this is it, this time I am the one who is doing
it.
IтАЩm the one who is going to drop into a black hole.
Oh, my god. This time IтАЩm not you.
This is real.
Of course, I have experienced this exact feeling before. We both know exactly
what it feels like.


My body seems weird, too big and at once too small. The feel of my muscles, my
vision, my kinesthetic sense, everything is wrong. Everything is strange. My vision is
fuzzy, and colors are oddly distorted. When I move, my body moves unexpectedly
last. But there seems to he nothing wrong with it. Already I am getting used to it. тАЬIt
will do,тАЭ I say.
There is too much to know, too much to be all at once. I slowly coalesce the
fragments of your personality. None of them are you. All of them are you.
A pilot, of course, you must have, you must be, a pilot. I integrate your pilot
persona, and he is me. I will fly to the heart of a darkness far darker than any mere
unexplored continent. A scientist, somebody to understand your experience, yes. I
synthesize a persona. You are him, too, and I understand.
And someone to simply experience it, to tell the tale (if any of me will survive
to tell the tale) of how you dropped into a black hole, and how you survived. If you
survive. Me. I will call myself Wolf, naming myself after a nearby star, for no reason
whatsoever, except maybe to claim, if only to myself, that I am not you.
All of we are me are you. But, in a real sense, youтАЩre not here at all. None of
me are you. You are far away. Safe.