"Kevin O'Donnel Jr. - The Journeys of McGill Feighan 04] - Cliffs" - читать интересную книгу автора (O'Donnell Jr Kevin)

It began: the Fling: the teleporting: in a blackness deeper than blindness,
a blackness that wrapped him ineluctably though he grew faster than
thought till he curled fetally on the edge of infinity while simultaneously he
shrank below the electronic scale and entered the worlds of charm and color
and magicтАФ
тАФand for one instant not of time because it was all of time, he was the
entire universe yet none of itтАФ
тАФand, as always, the contradiction rent him, sparking pain brighter than
the greatest of supernovae as half of him went large while the other half
went small and the pain would not end because it had never begunтАФ
тАФand his growing met his shrinking and the two became one, puffing out
the fiery candle andтАФ
 тАФNG*
The Fling ended.
Cheery orange walls surrounded him; a soft grey rug supported him. In
the holo before him a notocactus tracked the sun's path with dishes of
blazing yellow blossoms.
Teleporting directly into Walking Mule's office would have been quicker,
but courtesy required him to materialize in the reception area.
Not that he honored all the rules of protocol. Brushing past the
simulacrum at the desk, he closed the door on its perturbed squawkings.
"Hi, Walking Mule, I got your message. Something up?"
A thousand pillows of a thousand colors and sizes carpeted the floor,
rising into mounds where previous visitors had built themselves backrests.
In the corner, cross-legged behind a Japanese-style table, sat a middle-aged
Amerindian. He lifted his head. Long black braids framed a dark face full of
warm brown eyes. "Nothing you don't want to hear, McGill. Have a seat.
But keep your shoes off the silk, will you?"
"Sorry." As it was impossible to take another step without treading on at
least one of the pillows, he tugged off his shoes and left them by the
doorway. Sprawling on a stack of cushions, he laced his hands behind his
head. "I am due at my booth in a minute or so, though."
Walking Mule waved a hand. "It looks to be a slow day today, so don't
fret about falling behind. Got some good news for you: The final paperwork
came back from the Hub, and you are officially cleared. All sanctions against
you have been liftedтАФ"
"I thought you lifted them three months ago, when I got back from Actu."
The Director flashed him a glance of annoyance. "Well, I did, but you
know as well as I do that those paper-pushing desk jockeys back at the Hub
have their own ways of doing things. It's taken us this long to get the
paperwork cleared up." He narrowed his eyes. "Course, I could have
wrapped things up a sight quicker if you hadn't had this strange aversion to
being recertified by PsychSection."
Feighan squirmed. Alone of all living Flingers, heтАФ thanks to the
electronic wizardry Marion Jefferson Greystein had deployed at the
AcademyтАФhad successfully escaped a program of mental indoctrination
that would, he felt, have deprived him of free will. If PsychSection ever got
him on their couches, they would discover this. He refused to give them a
second shot at his head. "I appreciate that, Walking Mule," he said softly.
"Well, I sure as hell hope you do, McGill, 'cause I had to do a