"The Collapsium" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mccarthy Wil)

landing site. The house seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if wondering whether
to open the wall right thereЧcarefully, of course, so as not to drop or break
anythingЧor to make him go a few steps around. Which choice would minimize his
inconvenience and displeasure? But the decision itself, teetering precariously
at a balance point, took long enough that Bruno became annoyed anyway.
"Door!" he snapped, when almost two seconds had expired. The wall before him
opened instantly, robots rushing quietly forward to steady the shelved vases and
picture frames, to whisk the little drink table out of his way. He stepped
through the opening, out into dewy, meadow-fragrant air.
The side of the ship was marred by a rectangular seam, ringed all around with
rivets. No wellstone, that, but honest metal, a passive device for containing
air, for holding out vacuum. A hatch. Presently, light fanned from its upper
edge, and the hatch swung downward, revealing a carpeted staircase affixed to
its inner surface. This made contact with the ground, forming a perfect little
exitway.
On the other side stood a pair of dainty robots, delicate-looking things with
frilled tutus ringing their waists and feathered caps slanted just so on their
heads, their metal hands bearing ceremonial halberds that looked as if they
might be twisted out of true by a strong breeze or a harsh word. In perfect
synchrony, the pair descended the staircase and came straight forward, straight
toward Bruno. The ship had been set down with even greater care than he'd first
realized, set down by entities obsessed as much with decorum and pomp as with
aero- and astrodynamics.
Ten meters away, they stopped, clicked their metal heels, and bowed.
"Declarant-Philander Bruno de Towaji," one of them saidЧor maybe both, in
too-perfect synchrony to distinguish. "We bring you the greetings of Her
Majesty, and a request for your immediate audience. You are to come with us."
It was always strange to see robots speak, because they did it so rarely and
because they had no mouths. By royal decree, it was Uncouth to build machines
with faces, or hair, or genitalia, except for the express purpose of sexual
perversion, which was itself Uncouth and needed no further encouragement.
"Excuse me?" Bruno said.
"You are to come with us," the robots repeated, their joined voices fluid,
elegant, courtly in a mechanical, clockwork-ballerina sort of way.
"Really. Am I to know why?"
"It is a matter of utmost importance, Declarant. The explanation of it is beyond
our tasking."
"Beyond your tasking. I see." Bruno nodded sagely, thinking to wonder whether
his image was being recorded or transmitted, and if so, whether he looked
dignified and wise or simply hermitty, possessed of too much hair and beard.
"Her Majesty isn't with you, then, all the way out here. And why should she be?"
Why indeed, when she could simply order him around by proxy? Feeling a sudden,
petty anger, he whisked off his cap and threw it at their golden feet. "Pick
that up. Deliver it. It's my reply. If Her Majesty wishes an audience, she is
cordially invited to enjoy it here. My work, alas, does not permit me to travel
at this time."
The robots considered that.
"Her Majesty requests your immediate presence," they finally said. "Groundless
refusal is both Uncouth and inconvenient. There is no reason to be rude."
"Rude? Not at all. Not a bit of it. Tell Her Majesty that it pleases me, as