"No Woman Born" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore C. L)

bered perfectly. УWell, John, is it I?Ф She knew it was. Perfect assurance sounded in the voice. УThe shock will wear off, you know. ItТll be easier and easier as time goes on. IТm quite used to myself now. See?Ф
She turned away from him and crossed the room smoothly, with the old, poised, dancerТs glide, to the mirror that paneled one side of the room. And before it, as he had so often seen her preen before, he watched her preening now, running flexible metallic hands down the folds of her metal garment, turning to admire herself over one metal shoulder, making the mailed folds tinkle and sway as she struck an arabesque position before the glass.
His knees let him down into the chair she had vacated. Mingled shock and relief loosened all his muscles in him, and she was more poised and confident than he.
УItТs a miracle,Ф he said with conviction. УItТs you. But I donТt see howЧФ He had meant, УЧhow, without face or bodyЧФ but clearly he could not finish that sentence.
She finished it for him in her own mind, and answered without self-consciousness. УItТs motion, mostly,Ф she said, still admiring her own suppleness in the mirror. УSee?Ф And very lightly on her springy, armored feet she flashed through an enchainement of brilliant steps, swinging round with a pirouette to face him. УThat was what Maltzer and I worked out between us, after I began to get myself under control again.Ф Her voice was somber for a moment, remembering a dark time in the past. Then she went on, УIt wasnТt easy, of course, but it was fascinating. YouТll never guess how fascinating, John! We knew we couldnТt work out anything like a facsimile of the way I used to look, so we had to find some other basis to build on. And motion is the other basis of recognition, after actual physical likeness.Ф
She moved lightly across the carpet toward the window and stood looking down, her featureless face averted a little and the light shining across the delicately hinted curves of the cheekbones.
УLuckily,Ф she said, her voice amused, УI never was beautiful. It was allЧwell, vivacity, I suppose, and muscular co-ordination. Years and years of training, and all of it engraved hereФЧshe struck her golden helmet a light, ringing blow with golden knucklesЧФin the habit patterns grooved into my brain. So this body. . . did he tell you? . .
works entirely through the brain. Electromagnetic currents flowing along from ring to ring, like this.Ф She rippled a boneless arm at him with a motion like flowing water. УNothing holds me togetherЧnothing!Чexcept muscles of magnetic currents. And if IТd been somebody elseЧsomebody who moved differently, why the flexible rings
would have moved differently too, guided by the impulse from another brain. IТm not conscious of doing anything I havenТt always done. The same impulses that used to go out to my muscles go out now toЧthis.Ф And she made a shuddering, serpentine motion of both arms at him, like a Cambodian dancer, and then laughed wholeheartedly, the sound of it ringing through the room with such fullthroated merriment that he could not help seeing again the familiar face crinkled with pleasure, the white teeth shining. УItТs all perfectly subconscious now,Ф she told him. УIt took lots of practice at first, of course, but now even my signature looks just as it always didЧthe coordination is duplicated that delicately.Ф She rippled her arms at him again and chuckled.
УBut the voice, too,Ф Harris protested inadequately. УItТs your voice, Deirdre.Ф
УThe voice isnТt only a matter of throat construction and breath control, my darling Johnnie! At least, so Professor Maltzer assured me a year ago, and I certainly havenТt any reason to doubt him!Ф She laughed again. She was laughing a little too much, with a touch of the bright, hysteric over-excitement he remembered so well. But if any woman ever had reason for mild hysteria, surely Deirdre had it now.
The laughter rippled and ended, and she went on, her voice eager. УHe says voice control is almost wholly a matter of hearing what you produce, once youТve got adequate mechanism, of cour~e. ThatТs why deaf people, with the same vocal chords as ever, let their voices change completely and lose all inflection when theyТve been deaf long enough. And luckily, you see, IТm not deaf!Ф
She swung around to him, the folds of her robe twinkling and ringing, and rippled up and up a clear, true scale to a lovely high note, and then cascaded down again like water over a falls. But she left him no time for applause. УPerfectly simple, you see. All it took was a little matter of genius from the professor to get it worked out for me! He started with a new variation of the old Vodor you must remember hearing about, years ago. Originally, of course, the thing was ponderous. You know how it workedЧspeech broken down to a few basic sounds and built up again in combinations produced from a keyboard. I think originally the sounds were a sort of ktch and a shooshing noise, but weТve got it all worked to a flexibility and range quite as good as human now. All I do isЧwell, mentally play on the keyboard of my . - . my sound-unit, I suppose itТs called. ItТs much more complicated than that, of course, but IТve learned to do it unconsciously. And I regulate it by ear, quite automatically now. If you were
ЧhereЧinstead of me, and youТd had the same practice, your own
voice would be coming out of the same keyboard and diaphragm instead of mine. ItТs all a matter of the brain patterns that operated the body and now operate the machinery. They send out very strong impulses that are stepped up as much as necessary somewhere or other in hereЧФ Her hands waved vaguely over the mesh-robed body.
She was silent a moment, looking out the window. Then she turned away and crossed the floor to the fire, sinking again into the flowered chair. Her helmet-skull turned its mask to face him and he could feel a quiet scrutiny behind the aquamarine of its gaze.
УItТsЧodd,Ф she said, Уbeing here in this . . . this. . - instead of a body. But not as odd or as alien as you might think. IТve thought about it a lotЧIТve had plenty of time to thinkЧand IТve begun to realize what a tremendous force the human ego really is. IТm not sure I want to suggest it has any mystical power it can impress on mechanical things, but it does seem to have a power of some sort. It does instill its own force into inanimate objects, and they take on a personality of their own. People do impress their personalities on the houses they live in, you know. IТve noticed that often. Even empty rooms. And it happens with other things too, especially, I think, with inanimate things that men depend on for their lives. Ships, for instanceЧthey always have personalities of their own.
УAnd planesЧin wars you always hear of planes crippled too badly to fly, but struggling back anyhow with their crews. Even guns acquire a sort of ego. Ships and guns and planes are СsheТ to the men who operate them and depend on them for their lives. ItТs as if machinery with complicated moving parts almost simulates life, and does acquire from the men who used itЧwell, not exactly life, of courseЧbut a personality. I donТt know what. Maybe it absorbs some of the actual electrical impulses their brains throw off, especially in times of stress.
УWell, after awhile I began to accept the idea that this new body of mine could behave at least as responsively as a ship or a plane. Quite apart from the fact that my own brain controls its Сmuscles.Т I believe thereТs an affinity between men and the machines they make. They make them out of their own brains, really, a sort of mental conception and gestation, and the result responds to the minds that created them, and to all human minds that understand and manipulate them.Ф
She stirred uneasily and smoothed a flexible hand along her meshrobed metal thigh. УSo this is myself,Ф she said. УMetalЧbut me. And it grows more and more myself the longer I live in it. ItТs my house and the machine my life depends on, but much more intimately in each case than any real house or machine ever was before to any other human. And you know, I wonder if in time IТll forget what flesh felt
likeЧmy own flesh, when I touched it like thisЧand the metal against the metal will be so much the same IТll never even notice?Ф
Harris did not try to answer her. He sat without moving, watching her expressionless face. In a moment she went on.
УIТll tell you the best thing, John,Ф she said, her voice softening to the old intimacy he remembered so well that he could see superimposed upon the blank skull the warm, intent look that belonged with the voice. УIТm not going to live forever. It may not sound like aЧbest thingЧbut it is, John. You know, for awhile that was the worst of all, after I knew I wasЧafter I woke up again. The thought of living on and on in a body that wasnТt mine, seeing everyone I knew grow old and die, and nOt being able to stopЧ УBut Maltzer says my brain will probably wear out quite normally
Чexcept, of course, that I wonТt have to worry about looking old!Ч and when it gets tired and stops, the body IТm in wonТt be any longer. The magnetic muscles that hold it into my own shape and motions will let go when the brain lets go, and thereТll be nothing but a. . . a pile of disconnected rings. If they ever assemble it again, it wonТt be me.Ф She hesitated. УI like that, John,Ф she said, and he felt from behind the mask a searching of his face.
He knew and understood that somber satisfaction. He could not put it into words; neither of them wanted to do that. But he understood. It was the conviction of mortality, in spite of her immortal body. She was not cut off from the rest of her race in the essence of their humanity, for though she wore a body of steel and they perishable flesh, yet she must perish too, and the same fears and faiths still united her to mortals and humans, though she wore the body of OberonТs inhuman knight. Even in her death she must be uniqueЧ dissolution in a shower of tinkling and clashing rings, he thought, and almost envied her the finality and beauty of that particular deathЧ but afterward, oneness with humanity in however much or little awaited them all. So she could feel that this exile in metal was only temporary, in spite of everything.
(And providing, of course, that the mind inside the metal did not veer from its inherited humanity as the years went by. A dweller in a. house may impress his personality upon the walls, but subtly the walls too, may impress their own shape upon the ego of the man. Neither of them thought of that, at the time.)
Deirdre sat a moment longer in silence. Then the mood vanished and she rose again, spinning so that the robe belied out ringing about her ankles. She rippled another scale up and down, faultlessly and with the same familiar sweetness of tone that had made her famous.
УSo IТm going right back on the stage, John,Ф she said serenely. УI can still sing. I can still dance. IТm still myself in everything that matters, and I canТt imagine doing anything else for the rest of my life.Ф
He could not answer without stammering a little. УDo you think will they accept you, Deirdre? After allЧФ
УTheyТll accept me,Ф she said in that confident voice. УOh, theyТll come to see a freak at first, of course, but theyТll stay to watchЧ Deirdre. And come back again and again just as they always did. YouТll see, my dear.Ф
But hearing her sureness, suddenly Harris himself was unsure. Maltzer had not been, either. She was so regally confident, and disappointment would be so deadly a blow at all that remained of herЧ She was so delicate a being now, really. Nothing but a glowing and radiant mind poised in metal, dominating it, bending the steel to the illusion of her lost loveliness with a sheer self-confidence that gleamed through the metal body. But the brain sat delicately on its poise of reason. She had been through intolerable stresses already, perhaps more terrible depths of despair and self-knowledge than any human brain had yet endured before her, forЧsince Lazarus himselfЧwho had come back from the dead?
But if the world did not accept her as beautiful, what then? If they laughed, or pitied her, or came only to watch a jointed freak performing as if on strings where the loveliness of Deirdre had once enchanted them, what then? And he could not be perfectly sure they would not. He had known her too well in the flesh to see her objectively even now, in metal. Every inflection of her voice called up the vivid memory of the face that had flashed its evanescent beauty in some look to match the tone. She was Deirdre to Harris simply because she had been so intimately familiar in every poise and attitude, through so many years. But people who knew her only slightly, or saw her for the first time in metalЧwhat would they see?
A marionette? Or the real grace and loveliness shining through?
He had no possible way of knowing. He saw her too clearly as she had been to see her now at all, except so linked with the past that she was not wholly metal. And he knew what Maltzer feared, for MaltzerТs psychic blindness toward her lay at the other extreme. He had never known Deirdre except as a machine, and he could not see her objectively any more than Harris could. To Maltzer she was pure metal, a robot his own hands and brain had devised, mysteriously animated by the mind of Deirdre, to be sure, but to all outward seeming a thing of metal solely. He had worked so long over each intricate part of her body, he knew so well how every jointure in it was put to-
gether, that he could not see the whole. He had studied many film records of her, of course, as she used to be, in order to gauge the accuracy of his facsimile, but this thing he had made was a copy only. He was too close to Deirdre to see her. And Harris, in a way, was too far. The indomitable Deirdre herself shone so vividly through the metal that his mind kept superimposing one upon the other.
How would an audience react to her? Where in the scale between these two extremes would their verdict fall?
For Deirdre, there was only one possible answer.
УIТm not worried,Ф Deirdre said serenely, and spread her golden hands to the fire to watch lights dancing in reflection upon their shining surfaces. УIТm still myself. IТve always had . . . well, power over my audiences. Any good performer knows when heТs got it. Mine isnТt gone. I can still give them what I always gave, only now with greater variations and more depths than IТd ever have done before. Why, lookЧФ She gave a little wriggle of excitement.
УYou know the arabesque principleЧgetting the longest possible distance from fingertip to toetip with a long, slow curve through the whole length? And the brace of the other leg and arm giving contrast? Well, look at me. I donТt work on hinges now. I can make every motion a long curve if I want to. My bodyТs different enough now to work out a whole new school of dancing. Of course thereТll be things I used to do that I wonТt attempt nowЧno more da~icing sur les pointes, for instanceЧbut the new things will more than balance the loss. IТve been practicing. Do you know I can turn a hundred fouettщs now without a flaw? And I think I could go right on and turn a thousand, if I wanted.Ф
She made the firelight flash on her hands, and her robe rang musically as she moved her shoulders a little. УIТve already worked out one new dance for myself,Ф she said. УGod knows IТm no choreographer, but I did want to experiment first. Later, you know, really creative men like Massanchine or Fokhileff may want to do something entirely new for meЧa whole new sequence of movements based on a new technique. And musicЧthat could be quite different, too. Oh, thereТs no end to the possibilities! Even my voice has moreХ range and power. Luckily IТm not an actressЧit would be silly to try to play Camille or Juliet with a cast of ordinary people. Not that I couldnТt, you know.Ф She turned her head to stare at Harris through the mask of glass. УI honestly think I could. But it isnТt necessary. ThereТs too much else. Oh, IТm not worried!Ф
УMaltzerТs worried,Ф Harris reminded her.
She swung away from the fire, her metal robe ringing, and into her
voice came the old note of distress that went with a furrowing of her forehead and a sidewise tilt of the head. The head went sidewise as it had always done, and he could see the furrowed brow almost as clearly as if flesh still clothed her.
УI know. And IТm worried about him, John. HeТs worked so awfully hard over me. This is the doldrums now, the let-down period, I suppose. I know whatТs on his mind. HeТs afraid IТll look just the same to the world as I look to him. Tooled metal. HeТs in a position no one ever quite achieved before, isnТt he? Rather like God.Ф Her voice rippled a little with amusement. УI suppose to God we must look like a collection of cells and corpuscles ourselves. But Maltzer lacks a godТs detached viewpoint.Ф
УHe canТt see you as I do, anyhow.Ф Harris was choosing his words with difficulty. УI wonder, thoughЧwould it help him any if you postponed your debut awhile? YouТve been with him too closely, I think. You donТt quite realize how near a breakdown he is. I was shocked when I saw him just now.Ф
The golden head shook. УNo. HeТs close to a breaking point, maybe, but I think the only cureТs action. He wants me to retire and stay out of sight, John. Always. HeТs afraid for anyone to see me except a few old friends who remember me as I was. People he can trust to beЧkind.Ф She laughed. It was very strange to hear that ripple of mirth from the blank, unfeatured skull. Harris was seized with sudden panic at the thought of what reaction it might evoke in an audience of strangers. As if he had spoken the fear aloud, her voice denied it. УI donТt need kindness. And itТs no kindness to Maltzer to hide me under a bushel. He has worked too hard, I know. HeТs driven himself to a breaking point. But itТll be a complete negation of all heТs worked for if I hide myself now. You donТt know what a tremendous lot of geniuses and artistry went into me, John. The whole idea from the start was to recreate what IТd lost so that it could be proved that beauty and talent need not be sacrificed by the destruction of parts or all the body.
УIt wasnТt only for me that we meant to prove that. ThereТll be others who suffer injuries that once might have ruined them. This was to end all suffering like that forever. It was MaltzerТs gift to the whole race as well as to me. HeТs really a humanitarian, John, like most great men. HeТd never have given up a year of his life to this work if it had been for any one individual alone. He was seeing thousands of others beyond me as he worked. And I wonТt let him ruin all heТs achieved because heТs afraid to prove it now heТs got it. The whole wonderful achievement will be worthless if I donТt take the final step. I think his
breakdown, in the end, would be worse and more final if I never tried than if I tried and failed.Ф
Harris sat in silence. There was no answer he could make to that. He hoped the little twinge of shamefaced jealousy he suddenly felt did not show, as he was reminded anew of the intimacy closer than marriage which had of necessity bound these two together. And he knew that any reaction of his would in its way be almost as prejudiced as MaltzerТs, for a reason at once the same and entirely opposite. Except that he himself came fresh to the problem, while MaltzerТs viewpoint was colored by a year of overwork and physical and mental exhaustion.
УWhat are you going to do?Ф he asked.