"Alastair Reynolds - Diamond Dogs" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reynolds Alastair)

offered him political protection when the powerful Mixmaster lobby opposed the project, and they had
been amongst the first to be scanned.
Less than fourteen months later, their simulations had also been amongst the first to crash.
None could ever be restarted. Most of the remaining Eighty had succumbed, and now only a handful
remained unaffected.
'You must hate Calvin for what he did,' Childe said, still with that taunting quality in his voice.
'Would it surprise you if I said I didn't?'
'Then why did you set yourself so vocally against his family after the tragedy?'
'Because I felt justice still needed to be served.' I turned from the shrine and started walking away,
curious as to whether Childe would follow me.
'Fair enough,' he said. 'But that opposition cost you dearly, didn't it?'
I bridled, halting next to what appeared a highly realistic sculpture but was almost certainly an
embalmed corpse.
'Meaning what?'
'The Resurgam expedition, of course, which just happened to be bankrolled by House Sylveste. By
rights, you should have been on it. You were Richard Swift, for heaven's sake. You'd spent the better part
of your life thinking about possible modes of alien sentience. There should have been a place for you on
that ship, and you damned well knew it.'
'It wasn't that simple,' I said, resuming my walk. 'There were a limited number of slots available and
they needed practical types first - biologists, geologists, that kind of thing. By the time they'd filled the
most essential slots, there simply wasn't any room for abstract dreamers like myself.'
'And the fact that you'd pissed off House Sylveste had nothing whatsoever to do with it? Come off it,
Richard.'
We descended a series of steps down into the lower level of the Monument. The atrium's ceiling was a
cloudy mass of jagged sculptures: interlocked metal birds. A party of visitors was arriving, attended by
servitors and a swarm of bright, marble-sized float-cams. Childe breezed through the group, drawing
annoyed frowns but no actual recognition, although one or two of the people in the party were vague
acquaintances of mine.
'What is this about?' I asked, once we were outside.
'Concern for an old friend. I've had my tabs on you, and it was pretty obvious that not being selected for
that expedition was a crushing disappointment. You'd thrown your life into contemplation of the alien.
One marriage down the drain because of your self-absorption. What was her name again?'
I'd had her memory buried so deeply that it took a real effort of will to recall any exact details about my
marriage.
'Celestine. I think.'
'Since when you've had a few relationships, but nothing lasting more than a decade. A decade's a mere
fling in this town, Richard.'
'My private life's my own business,' I responded sullenly. 'Hey. Where's my volantor? I parked it here.'
'I sent it away. We'll take mine instead.'
Where my volantor had been was a larger, blood-red model. It was as baroquely ornamented as a
funeral barge. At a gesture from Childe it clammed open, revealing a plush gold interior with four seats,
one of which was occupied by a dark, slouched figure.
'What's going on, Roland?'
'I've found something. Something astonishing that I want you to be a part of; a challenge that makes
every game you and I ever played in our youth pale in comparison.'
'A challenge?'
'The ultimate one, I think.'
He had pricked my curiosity, but I hoped it was not too obvious. 'The city's vigilant. It'll be a matter of
public record that I came to the Monument, and we'll have been recorded together by those float-cams.'
'Exactly,' Childe said, nodding enthusiastically. 'So you risk nothing by getting in the volantor.'