"Paul Preuss - Re-Entry" - читать интересную книгу автора (Preuss Paul)

Holder took another sip of the foul-tasting ScotchтАФreputedly an excellent
unblended variety from Lothian, which he drank only for the sake of its
unmistakable odor. He hated Scotch. He grimaced and put down the bulb. Glass
clicked against glass. Glass everywhere.
He rubbed his hand over his face, feeling rubbery skin, trying to avoid his
yellowing eyes in the bar's ubiquitous mirrors. He'd just as soon never see this
particular version of his face again, anyway: a fortyish face, handsome in a
soft-edged, dissolute sort of way, tanned almost black and engagingly wrinkled
by the suns of a dozen worldsтАФyet somehow looking preserved.
The mirrored walls of the lounge, intended to make a modest space seem larger,
closed in on him instead, mocking him with his own image repeated endlessly
around him, a dozen decadent versions of himself converging at infinity,
reflected in the walls of this alcohol-filled killing bottle.
He was saved by the sudden appearanceтАФa dozen desperate appearances at onceтАФof
Evan Bruneau. H... slap my wrist if Tm pushing, but this was the night you..."
Holder watched Bruneau try to get control of his face, which reflected relief
and contempt before settling into determined obsequiousness. Holder almost
laughed, but he was truly grateful for Bruneau's timely arrival.
"Oh Jeezus Ev, I've let you down again, have I? Probly too late now, huh? Lemme
buy you drink, anyway...."
'That's awfully good of you, Phil, but you could do me a much, much greater
favor." Bruneau grinned sweatily. "The ;|act is, it's just a tad past 21:00...."
',;. Holder peered owlishly at his watch. "Say, you're right as rain, Ev.
There's still time!" Holder pushed himself vigorously away from the bar,
stumbling against Bruneau. ** 'Scuse. Guess me arse is numb."
Bruneau steadied the shorter man with one hand and pressed his thumb against the
countertop charge plateтАФfor all his fumbling, Holder had never been in danger of
paying his own bill. Bruneau steered Holder firmly toward the door.
The lift flashed upward, past a dozen opulent decks visible through the clear
extruded crystal of the pneumatic tube. Holder leaned cozily on Bruneau's
shoulder and closed his eyes. "Ev, 'd I ever tell you about the time at
Epseridan U. when I was so sozzled and I was supposed to give this speech so
I..."
"Sent your friend on instead, pretending to be you?"
"I did tell you!" Holder exclaimed with delight. "And he was so damn convincing!
Ran through all the charts and graphs, knew 'em better than me. Had to call a
stop to it, though," said Holder sternly. "He made too much sense to be a real
ep'demiologist... mislead the public ..."
"Dont get any ideas, Phil. It wouldn't work." Bruneau sighed.
"Oh hell, / know that*' Holder was indignant. "These people already know you."
"But if you really don't feel up to it.. .**
"Relax, kid. IT! be fine," said Holder, miffed. He stood up straight as the lift
doors whispered open.
The projected stars of the desert night twinkled more brightly as the sky light
dimmed in the Sun Grove. Holder stood remarkably steady on the edge of the low
dais, holding the room controls in his left hand. He'd warmed up his audience
with professional aplomb, starting with a few jokes about drunken professors.
Imperceptibly, not letting on that he was turning serious, he began including
scraps of real ideas in his banter.
In the shadows at the back of the room Evan Bruneau allowed his gold-braided