"He Who Shapes by Roger Zelazny" - читать интересную книгу автора (Nebula Awards)

two red ones, not really looking at any of them. His right arm
moved in its soundless sling, across the lap-level surface of the
consolepushing some of the buttons, skipping over others,
moving on, retracing its path to press the next in the order of
the Recall Series.
Sensations throttled, emotions reduced to nothing. Repre-
sentative Erikson knew the oblivion of the womb.
There was a soft click.
Render's hand had glided to the end of the bottom row of
buttons. An act of conscious intentwill, if you likewas
required to push the red button.
Render freed his arm and lifted off his crown of Medusa-hair
leads and microminiature circuitry. He slid from behind his
desk-couch and raised the hood. He walked to the window and
transpared it, fingering forth a jgjfg~e.
One minute in the ro-womb, he decided. No more. This is a
crucial one . . . Hope it doesn't mow till laterthose clouds look
mean...
It was smooth yellow trellises and high towers, glassy and
gray, all smouldering into evening under a shale-colored sky;
the city was squared volcanic islands, glowing in the end-of-
day light, rumbling deep down under the earth; it was fat,
incessant rivers of traffic, rushing.
Render turned away from the window and approached the
great egg that lay beside his desk, smooth and glittering. It
threw back a reflection that smashed all aquilinity from bis
nose, turned his eyes to gray saucers, transformed his hair into a
light-streaked skyline; his reddish necktie became the wide
tongue of a ghoul.
He smiled, reached across the desk. He pressed the second
red button.
With a sigh, the egg lost its dazzling opacity and a horizontal
crack appeared about its middle. Through the now-transparent
shell. Render could see Erikson grimacing, squeezing his eyes
tight, fighting against a return to consciousness and the thing it
would contain. The upper half of the egg rose vertical to the
base, exposing him knobby and pink on half-shell. When his
eyes opened he did not look at Render. He rose to his feet and
began dressing. Render used this time to check the ro-womb.
He leaned back across his desk and pressed the buttons:
temperature control, full range, check; exotic soundshe raised
the earphone check, on bells, on buzzes, on violin notes and
whistles, on squeals and moans, on traffic noises and the sound
of surf; check, on the feedback circuitholding the patient's
own voice, trapped earlier in analysis; check, on the sound
blanket, the moisture spray, the odor banks; check, on the
couch agitator and the colored lights, the taste stimulants . . .
Render closed the egg and shut off its power. He pushed the
unit into the closet, palmed shut the door. The tapes had
registered a valid sequence.