"Dead Men Walking" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mcauley Paul J)

Just about the only thing still working is the stupid little chip I stuck in my
helmet to record my conversation with the assassin. By now, you probably know
more about her than I do. Perhaps you even know who sent her here.
I donТt have much time left. Perhaps itТs because the increasing carbon dioxide
level is making me comfortably stupid, but I find that I donТt mind dying. I
told you that I confronted the assassin to save myself. I think now that I may
have been wrong about that. I may have gone on the run after the Quiet War, but
in my own way I have served you right up until the end of my life.
IТm going to sign off now. I want to spend my last moments remembering my
freestyle climb up those twenty kilometers of sheer ice in Prospero Chasma. I
want to remember how at the end I stood tired and alone at the top of a
world-cleaving fault left over from a shattering collision four billion years
ago, with Uranus tilted at the horizon, half-full, serene and remote, and the
infinite black, starry sky above. I felt so utterly insignificant then, and yet
so happy, too, without a single regret for anything at all in my silly little
life.
(c)Copyright 2006 by Paul J. McAuley