"Ringo, John - Council Wars 1 - There Will Be Dragons" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ringo John)

all, that's tantamount to killing you. We might as well pump you full of
neurotoxin. That's why the docs won't treat it; they aren't allowed to take any
chances beyond a certain parameter."
" 'Ange?" he asked. "Or a 'ansfer?"
"Both have ramifications under the circumstances," she replied with a lifted
chin and a "tchuck" that signified "no."
"I think it was a Change sometime in your gene history that was the problem; the
complex that is interfering with the neurotransmitter production is nearly
co-located with the site for a gill protein. And I see you have mer-people about
three generations back. Trying to do either a Transfer or a Change would be
chancy. A Transfer assumes that your nerves, your brain cells not to put too
fine a point on it, are acting normally. Yours aren't. I'd put about a thirty
percent likelihood that if we tried to Transfer you to a nannite entity or
something similar you'd either lose significant sections of memory, or
base-level processing ability, or both. Lose base-level process and you're going
to be a semifunctional mind in a nannite body you can't control. Not a good
choice either."
"Muh 'ody's go'g and muh brain 'oo," the boy pointed out. "Don' ha' 'oo ma'y
'oices lef', doc'or."
"HmmmЕ" she said. "I have an idea. I'm not sure if it's better or worse than
Transference; I'll have to model it. The problem is getting worse, but we've got
a little time to figure it out." She looked over at him and smiled. "I will
figure it out, Herzer. I promise."
"Ogay, doct'or," he said.
"In the meantime, have as good a time as you can. I'll get back to you in no
more than a week."
"Ogay, doct'or," he repeated. "I can go now?"
"You should go now. All the usual. Get rest, drink fluids, exercise if you can."
"I 'ill," he said with a sigh. " 'Bye."
"Take care," she replied as he disappeared from the chair.
She leaned back in her float-chair and stared up at the ceiling for a moment,
then waved at the hologram to dismiss it and snapped her fingers. "Genie:
Chile."
The transfer was the closest thing to instantaneous so a moment later she closed
her eyes and let the ocean breeze blow over her as the sound of surf and
waterfall filled her ears. The small wooden cottage was on the slope of a ravine
near Puntlavap, overlooking the Po'ele Ocean. A large stream cascaded down the
ravine to meet the crashing waves twenty meters below and the combination of
sounds both soothed her and aided her focus.
But today it didn't seem to be working.
She opened her eyes after a few moments and balefully regarded the clouds that
were sweeping in from the west.
"It's there," she whispered. "I can feel it."
She stood up and began striding back and forth on the cottage's deck as the
first blast of wind from the approaching storm blew through. The wind caught her
hair, blowing it into her face but she barely noticed as she stopped and stared
into the approaching storm abstractedly.
"A jigsaw," she muttered, as the rain started to fall, the droplets streaming
off of the barely visible force-field. "Do it one piece at a time?" She was sure
there was an idea there, if it would just come into focus. It was close.