"Larry Niven - Fallen Angels" - читать интересную книгу автора (Niven Larry)

 Larry Niven - Fallen Angels His parents had once taken him atop the Sears Tower But bitter because . . . That part he did not want to think
and another time to the edge of the Mesa Verde cliffs; about. Just enjoy the moment; become one with it. If
and each time he had thought what an awful long way this was to be his last trip, he would enjoy it while he
down it was. Then, they had taken him so far up that could. If everything went A-OK, he'd be back upstairs in
down ceased to mean anything at all. a few hours, playing the hero for the minute or so that
CHAPTER ONE people would care. A real hero, not a retired hero. Then
Alex stared out of Piranha's windscreen at the cloud back in the day-care center wiping snotty noses. It
deck, trying to conjure that feeling of height; trying to would be years before another dip trip was needed.
"Aspiring to Be Gods . . ."
feel that the clouds were down and he was up. But it He'd never be on the list again.
had all been too many years ago, in another world. All
High over the northern hemisphere the scoopship's hull
he could see was distance. Living in the habitats did Which meant that Alex MacLeod, pilot and engineer,
began to sing. The cabin was a sounding box for
that to you. It stole height from your senses and left you wasn't needed any longer. So what do you do with a
vibrations far below the threshold of hearing. Alex
only with distance. pilot when pilots aren't needed? What do the habitats
MacLeod could feel his bones singing in sympathy.
do with a man who can't work outside, because one
He glanced covertly at Gordon Tanner in the copilot's more episode of explosive decompression will bring on
Piranha was kissing high atmosphere.
seat. If you were born in the habitats, you never knew a fatal stroke?
height at all. There were no memories to steal. Was
Planet Earth was shrouded in pearl white. There was
Gordon luckier than he, or not? Day care. Snotty noses. Work at learning to be a
no break anywhere. There were mountain ranges of
teacher, a job he didn't much like.
fluff, looming cliffs, vast plains that stretched to a far
The ship sang. He was beginning to hear it now.
distant convex horizon, a cloud cover that looked firm
Look on the bright side, Alex, my boy. Maybe you won't
enough to walk on. An illusion; a geography of vapors
And Alex MacLeod was back behind a stick, where make it back at all.
as insubstantial as the dreams of youth. If he were to
set foot upon them . . . The clouds did not float in free God had meant him to be, flying a spaceship again.
fall, as was proper, but in an acceleration frame that Melancholy was plain ingratitude! He had plotted and Sure, he could always go out the way Mish Lykonov
could hurl the scoopship headlong into an enormous schemed his way into this assignment. He had had in Moon Rat, auguring in to Mare Tranquilitatis.
ball of rock and iron and smash it like any dream. pestered Mary and pestered Mary until she had They'd have a ceremony-тАФand they'd miss the ship
relented and bumped his name to the top of the list just more than him. Even Mary. Maybe especially Mary,
to be rid of him. He had won. since she'd got him the mission.
Falling, they called it.

Of course, there was a cost. Victories are always He straightened in his seat and touched the controls
Alex felt the melancholy stealing over him again.
bittersweet. Sweet because . . . He touched the stick again. Maybe just a touch of resistance . . .
Nostalgia? For that germ-infested ball of mud? Not
and felt nothing. They were still in vacuum . . . thicker
possible. He could barely remember Earth. Snapshots
vacuum, that was heating up. If there wasn't enough air "Chto delayet? Alex!"
from childhood; a chaotic montage of memories. He