"Ken Macleod - Fall Revolution 3 - The Cassini Division" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacLeod Ken)

room was made of something that looked and smelled like pine, but it had never been cut into
planks then hammered or glued together (which some people on Earth still do, as I later discovered,
and not all of them because they have to but because they can afford the time to indulge such fads).
Instead, it had been grown on-site, the walls and floor curving into each other, utility cables
emerging like vines from the knotholes. Glossy monochrome pictures of people, landscapes,
seascapes were stuck to the walls. They looked detailed and precise, just like photographs, apart
from the lack of colour. Scattered about, on the low chairs and table or on the floor, was a rather
embarrassing quantity and diversity of lingerie. Evidently I had been showing off, or the smart-suit
had. My memories of the night were hazy, and warm.
I lay there a few minutes, smiling to myself and hoping IтАЩd got pregnant. Doing so just before a
war seemed perverse itтАЩs traditionally done afterwards but this war would be over before the
pregnancy was noticeable. If we won, I might not be back on Earth for a long time, and we needed
all the genes we could get. If we lost ... but defeat wasnтАЩt worth thinking about.
I rolled out of bed and gathered the bits and pieces and set them to work reassembling
themselves into hiking gear, apart from the one or two items that would be serviceable as
underwear. Not that I actually needed underwear in a smart-matter spacesuit, but they Were very
nice. So, in their own way, were the shorts and socks, boots and rucksack that came together on the
floor. The suit always slid have good taste.
The apartment was pretty basic and standard, and the functional logic of it was familiar, so I had
no difficulty in finding the makings of breakfast. I brought the breakfast through to Stephan, and
we ate it, and made love for a final time. Stephan took some photographs of me, and I promised
again to forget him, and we said goodbye.
I suppose he has forgotten me, by now, but I like to think that someone still has the photographs.
Down at ground level it was hot. The sun was high in the sky, enormous, so bright I could see it
with my eyes closed and so hot it hurt my skin. Even the air was hot. ItтАЩs one of the things they
donтАЩt tell you about, like gravity.
 2 After London
Between the base of the tower and the beach were some low buildings. Stores and warehouses
of equipment for use by people working in the blue-greens or playing on the beach, refreshment
stalls, eating-houses, and so on. I wandered along the shore road, looking for the tourist place.
Naked small children ran about, yelling, racing from the tower to the beach and back.
Somewhat older children lolled in shade and listened to adults or adolescents as they talked
earnestly in front of a flip-chart or above a machine. Now and again a child would join one of
these groups; now and again a child would rise, nod politely to the teacher, and wander off to do
something else.
Two such children were minding the tourist place when I found it. The store was easy enough to
spot, a rough construction of seacrete and plastic and what looked like driftwood, but was probably
scrap synthetic wood. I told myself it must be more solid than it looked, as I ducked under the sea-
silk awning and stood blinking in the cool, dim interior.
Inside, the walls were lined with sagging shelves, which were piled with everything a tourist
might need. Old tin boxes of gold and silver coins, new plastic boxes of bullets, firearms oiled and
racked, hats, scarves, boots. From the ceiling hung a wide range of casual clothing: loose
sundresses, seal-fur suits, tee shirts and towelling robes. There seemed to be more possible
destinations than the number of possible tourists. I was alone in the store, apart from a boy and a
girl sitting on the counter with a chessboard between them.
The boy looked up. тАЬHi,тАЭ he said. He waved his hand. тАЬHelp yourself. If you want something
that isnтАЩt there, let us know.тАЭ He smiled absently then returned to frowning over the chessboard. I
dug through clinking piles of dollars, rubles, marks, pounds, and yen to make up sixty grams of
gold and a hundred of silver, in the smallest coins I could find. From the weapons rack I selected a
.45 automatic and a dozen clips of ammunition. Food and other consumables I could get anywhere,