"Barry N. Malzberg - Major League Triceratops" - читать интересную книгу автора (Malzberg Barry N)

This isnтАЩt a hotel, Robles said fiercely. This isnтАЩt a one-night stand. WeтАЩre buried in this place, now, not in
the past, canтАЩt you see that? ItтАЩs no joke.

Sure, she said, youтАЩre always so right, IтАЩll find my own clothes. See if I care. You throw, I go. HeтАЩs just a
tourist, she said in a different tone. Maybe a host, maybe a personality with an entourage, but he wants
what the rest of them do. A few pictures, a little admiration, a thrill to touch his insulated life.
The others didnтАЩt want to kill.

We didnтАЩt let them, remember? We changed the rules for Dix, thatтАЩs all. They wanted to kill, all right.
That was the lure all along, donтАЩt you know that?

He curled an arm over the floor, found a shirt half crouched beneath the pallet, tossed it to her. YouтАЩre
not all dumb, he said. You play that way but you can figure things out pretty good,

Muffy took the shirt from his hand, ran a hand through her hair, patting it down, then pushed her head
through. TheyтАЩre all the same to me, she said. Man with a plan, man on a mission, one way or the other.

In the distance, a tyrannosaur screamed, that odd, trapped sound arcing to penetration, then began to
whoop with the regularity of a siren. The sound was bucolic at this moment, fed not his apprehension but
what Robles wanted to take as heightened perception. The sound mixed into foliage, became oddly
comforting. Trees in the diorama rustled harmlessly. Muffy squeezed his hand, peered over his shoulder.
Here he comes, she said, there he comes, for heavenтАЩs sake. Look at him break water.

Break water it did. Not a tyrannosaur then but a major-leagueTriceratops . Robles had seen them in the
distance many times but this emergentTriceratops in the near bog was something different, was a
stunning son of a bitch, disproportionate but elegant in the sudden proximity. Thirty feet long, half that
high, three discolored horns, greenish at this angle, the huge, comic neck frill, those horns jutting at odd
angles above the eye and yet at the center of that movement an odd stillness. The gray-brown mass
stolid, almost bovine then as it emerged from a crouch, shoot itself toward land, nuzzled at the ground
then closed in on a magnolia so furiously leaved that the trunk was invisible. Began to pull at the
discolored flowers.

Cute, isnтАЩt he? Muffy said.

Oh yes, Robles said, thatтАЩs the word.

Makes you want to go over and pet them. Ride theTriceratops, Daniel? Want to take another seat? IтАЩm
not the only hobbyhorse around.

Go to hell, Robles said without anger. Take it on the tour.

A short-frilled ceratopid, Muffy said in a measured voice, tending to have large, unpaired nose horns.
The horns are more defensive than instruments of hostility, however, and to avoid injury resulting from
combat, theTriceratops relies heavily upon bluff displays and evasive maneuvers.

You do that well.

They pay me in time and experience, Muffy said. ItтАЩs all hypnotic therapy anyway. All those misspent,
unspent nights.