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

УThen I am Frankenstein, after all.Ф
УPerhaps you are,Ф Deirdre said very softly. УI donТt know. Perhaps you are.Ф
She turned away and moved smoothly, powerfully, down the room to the window. Now that Harris knew, he could almost hear the sheer power purring along her limbs as she walked. She leaned the golden forehead against the glassЧit clinked faintly, with a musical soundЧand looked down into the depths Maltzer had hung above. Her voice was reflective as she looked into those dizzy spaces which had offered oblivion to her creator.
УThereТs one limit I can think of,Ф she said, almost inaudibly. УOnly one. My brain will wear out in another forty years or so. Between now and then IТll learn . . . IТll change . . - IТll know more than I can guess today. IТll changeЧ ThatТs frightening. I donТt like to think about that.Ф She laid a curved golden hand on the latch and pushed the window open a little, very easily. Wind whined around its edge. УI could put a stop to it now, if I wanted,Ф she said. УIf I wanted. But I canТt, really. ThereТs so much still untried. My brainТs human, and no human brain could leave such possibilities untested. I wonder, though. . . I do wonderЧФ
Her voice was soft and familiar in HarrisТ ears, the voice Deirdre had spoken and sung with, sweetly enough to enchant a world. But as preoccupation came over her a certain flatness crept into the sound. When she was not listening to her own voice, it did not keep quite to the pitch of trueness. It sounded as if she spoke in a room of brass, and echoes from the walls resounded in the tones that spoke there.
УI wonder,Ф she repeated, the distant taint of metal already in her voice.