"Kevin O'Donnel Jr. - The Journeys of Mcgill Feighan 02 - Reefs" - читать интересную книгу автора (O'Donnell Jr Kevin)

breath and sighed it back out. "Jesus, love's hell."
"McGill, McGill, my young daffodil, what in the world can a
nineteen-year-old possibly know about love?"
"Hear the ancient impart his wisdom." Feighan snickered. "Tell me, oh
venerable twenty-two-year-old, all your arcane lore." He laughed, but was
too depressed to make it sound real.
"I'm not kidding." Blinking in the dazzle of April sun through the
window-wall, he said, "Hey! Look at this."
Feighan craned his neck to see outside without getting up.
Beyond the window hovered a balloon five meters in diameter. It was
green and purple, and a propeller held it steady against the gusts of New
York City.
"Yeah?" said Feighan. "So what?"
"So have you ever seen a Ua'litscha tourist before?"
"What?" He looked again. "It's a balloon, probably broke loose from
Central Park."
"McGill, those colors aren't the plastic's, they're the gases."
"Huh?"
"The Ua'litscha are sentient gasesтАж or gaseous life forms, or whatever.
And this one," he said, his tone sharpening, "is taking pictures of us. Oscar,
cue: polarize windows; do it now."
The windows opaqued; two floor lamps snapped into brilliance.
"Greystein! If you wanted to live underground, you could have said
soтАФManhattan's got lots of basementsтАФI wouldn't have rented a 124th
story penthouse if I'd known you had this thing about sunlight."
"What else did you have to spend your money on? When you've got ten
million in a trust fund, don't begrudge us a little luxury. Besides, I hate
having my picture taken by strangers; they never get my best profile. You
want a drink?"
"Sure, a beer."
 "Oscar, cue: pour two beers; do it now."
Behind the bar, glass clinked; pressurized liquid hissed.
"I got some new mugs today," said Greystein, sauntering over. "From
Inta LeinaтАФCanopus XIV?тАФincredible world, McGill, you'd enjoy it. I
special ordered these last week, and picked them up at lunch today. Remind
me to teach you the route sometime."
"You're not supposed to make interstellar Flings for personal reasons."
"So who'd tell on me?" He winked.
"They're going to catch you one of these days, Greystein, and when they
do, they'll figure out that you gimmicked the indoctrination machinesтАФand
then where will you be?" A sudden thought alarmed him. "Jesus, where will
I be?"
"With me," said the other teleport, "somewhere else." He tapped the latch
on the bar. "I don't care what the FNC wants, I won't be brainwashed like
the rest." The wood-grain panel slid up to display two cut glass steins of
beer, each with exactly three centimeters of head. He brought one to
Feighan, and held the other before his eye. "Look at it real closely."
Feighan did. His own face, brown-eyed, square-jawed, and
Roman-nosed, stared back at him. He shrugged. "So?"
"Turn it around, look at the other side."