"Julian May - Diamond Mask" - читать интересную книгу автора (May Julian)

The old man fed the fire with an armful of tree fern stalks as Atoning Unifex fell silent.
The swirling smoke seemed to slide away from a certain region near the cave entrance. Out of the
corner of his eye (his mental sight perceived nothing) Rogi caught occasional hints of a spectral
form standing there.
"What next, mon fant├┤me? You gonna snatch me back to New Hampshire through the gray limbo
like you did the last time, on Denali?"
Would you rather write the Diamond Mask story here on Kauai?
Rogi brightened. "You know, I think I would! She and Ti-Jean did honeymoon here, after all."
There is also the matter of the Hydra attack that took place here.
Rogi's brow tightened. "MauditтАФwhy'd you have to remind me about them?" He fumbled with the
side compartment of his backpack and took out an old leather-bound flask. Unscrewing the cap, he
tossed down a healthy slug of bourbon. "To do a proper job on Doroth├йe's early life, I'll have to
tell all about those poor, perverted bastards. Just remembering 'em turns my stomach." He took
another snort.
The Ghost said: I can alleviate your gastric distress more efficiently than whiskey can, if
you'll permit the liberty.
Rogi gave a bark of nervous laughter. "And will you be able to flush my skull of Fury dreams,
too?"
The Lylmik's thought-tone was wry: I've had experience with them myself, as you may recall.
I'll build you a protective mental shieldтАФ
"Hey! Now wait just a damn minute!"
The Ghost was insistent: It can be done while you sleep, so you'll have no experience of
invasion whatsoever. I can leave all your precious neuroses intact, but you must permit me to
install the dream-filter. It would be the height of ingratitude on my part if your writing chores
precipitated anxiety and a fresh bout of alcohol abuse. You will suffer no nightmares, I promise.
We Lylmik are the most skilled redactors in the universe.
"Oh, yeah? Then where the hell were you when Fury and his Hydras were doing their metapsychic
vampire act back in those thrilling days of yesteryear?"


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Our interference would not have been appropriate at that time. The crimes of those entities,
heinous as they were, were necessary to the evolution of Higher Reality, just as the Metapsychic
Rebellion was.
"I," the old man declared wearily, "do not give a rat's ass for the Higher Reality. Or the
Lower, for that matter." He lifted the flask again.
RogiтАФ
"All right! Go ahead and fix my brain so I don't go apeshit after dredging up those old
horrors. But don't you dare try to do me any favors plugging in Unity programs or any other Lylmik
flimflammery."
The phantom in the cave's darkened entrance now seemed to be approaching the fire, and Rogi
stared in fascination at the way the smoke wafted about the invisible form. As the Lylmik mind
spoke soothingly and the liquor did its work, the old man suddenly caught his breath. For an
instant, he thought he'd glimpsed a man's face there in the shadowsтАФone he remembered all too
clearly. He surged to his feet, calling out a name, and tried to throw his arms about the
evanescent shape; but he embraced only a cloud of smoke. His eyes began to sting, and he pulled a
bandanna handkerchief from his hip pocket and blew his nose, subsiding back onto his rocky seat.
The Ghost said: Vas-y doucement, mon oncle bien-aim├й! Think only of the memoirs. When you