"Maureen McHugh - Nekropolis" - читать интересную книгу автора (McHugh Maureen F)

wreaths and live comfortably in her old age.

It comes over to our side sometimes-the master says that since it isn't human, it's allowed. There is no
impropriety-it's never alone with the mistress. In fact, now, after having it a couple of months, she pretty
much ignores it, which would be virtuous if she did it out of any sense of morality, but the truth is it's like a
lot of other things; her little lion dog with the overbite-nasty little thing that Fadina, her body servant, had
to feed and bathe until they got rid of it-the house in the country that they bought and only used twice and
then sold. She got bored with it.

It thinks of itself. It has a name. It has gender.

It thinks it's male. And it's head of the men's side of the house. It thinks we should work together.
It looks human male and has curly black hair and soft honey-colored skin. It flirts, looking at me
sideways out of black vulnerable eyes. Smiling at me with a smile that isn't in the slightest bit vulnerable.
? Come on, Hariba,? it says, ? we work together. We should be friends. We're both young, we can
help each other in our work.?

I don't bother to answer.

It smiles wickedly. (Although I know it isn't wicked, it's just something grown and programmed. Soulless.
I'm not so conservative that I condemn cloning, but it's not a clone. It is a biological construct. I've never
seen one before, they're expensive and rare.) ? Hariba,? it says, ? I think you are too pure. A Holy
Sister.?

? Don't sound foolish,? I say.

? You need someone to tease you,? it says, ? you're very solemn. Tell me, is it because you're jessed??


I don't know how much it knows. Does it understand the process of jessing? ? The Second Koran says
that just as a jessed hawk is tamed, not tied, so shall the servant be bound by affection and duty, not
chains, with God's blessing.?

? Does the Second Koran say it shouldn't make you sad, Hariba??

Can something not human blaspheme?



In the morning Mbarek calls me into his office. He offers me tea, fragrant of mint, which I sip. He pages
through my morning report, nodding, making pleased noises, occasionally slurping his tea. Afternoons
and evenings Mbarek's at his restaurant. I've never been in it, but I understand it's an exceptional place.

? What will you do this afternoon?? he asks.

It's my afternoon free. ? My childhood friend Ayesha and I will go shopping, Mbarek-salah.?

? Ah,? he says, smiling. ? Spend a little extra silver,? he says. ? Buy yourself earrings or something. I'll
see the credit is available.? He's a good man. He never holds that money against my bond. A generous
man is a wealthy man, as it says in the Second Koran.