"Stross, Charles - Ancient Of Days" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stross Charles)

Kris laughed. "I was never at school," he said, stacking papers face-down in the feeder tray. "At least not as you know it. I learned to read and write in primary school with the other children, but then the dictator's men came. Ideology was in the driver's seat, and there were secret police Ц night and mist Ц and identity papers to contend with. We couldn't move as freely as we did before all this modern nonsense. I went into the army at sixteen because I was a young fool and thought it was a good way to get away from home, to lose myself among millions of other young men; I didn't understand about humans then."
He fell silent for a while, watching the sharp-edged shadows moving on the wall behind the photocopier. I don't think I should have told her that. "We suffered in that war," he said quietly. "I don't know how many died; there's no way of telling. But all through that area Ц the pain Ц"
"Then you must be, what? Sixty years old?" Sue asked. She wasn't spinning the chair any more: she was staring at him, her face a sharply pointed question, hungry for answers. "And still, you Ц"
"Still," he said. "I'm not even settled down with a family. If I was human I would be an old man, now. Retired to tend my bed of roses." Abruptly, he leaned forward and grabbed the stack of ejected documents, stuffed them back into their file and returned them to their drawer in exchange for another bundle. "They created the roses, you know? The humans. They bred them, from earlier plants."
"I know," she said. "Just as now they're trying to redesign themselves to fit their own desires. It's an interesting preoccupation ..."
Kris shuddered at the sight of her expression. "Pass the next file. What's your real name?" he asked without looking up.
She told him.
"Well," he said, running his long, thin tongue along his lips as he stared at the control panel: "you would do well to remember who you are, Sue, and think carefully about where your loyalties lie. We're letting them play with fire, and you are sitting very close to the hearth. There are those who would say that if you were to be burned it would be only your own fault."
She walked away from him, towards the window. "I say that as a friend," he added. "There are other groups at work as well ..."
She turned round then, and Kris felt himself frozen by the black spike of her gaze. He stared back at her unwaveringly. Something very ancient and very chilly passed between them and he made a small gesture with his right hand, a relic of an upbringing in backwoods Silesia. Behind them the photocopier whined on, unattended in its shadowy corner. "You don't know what you're talking about," she said, her face relaxing into a shape that was both alien and intimately familiar to Kristoph. "Believe me, genetic manipulation is perfectly safe," she added, baring inhumanly sharp teeth at him. "You can tell that to Ancient of Days. It's safe as stones as long as we're in control. Safe as stones ..."

***

Later, as soon as it could be arranged, five strangers gathered in impromptu committee. There were no validated safe houses available in the city at present, and Ancient of Days had insisted upon full security precautions being observed: therefore they met in the a place normally maintained for serious emergencies, where interruption was unlikely.
The city sewer systems were more than a century old, and a lengthy program of refurbishment had been under way for ten years now. Old brick-lined tunnels crumbled gently beneath the pounding wheels of trucks and cars, and the new prefabricated concrete sewers by-passed them completely. The original maps were in poor condition, many of them lost during the war, and the old lore of the tunnel-walkers had dwindled as a result of modern career mobility, but there were still some who knew where the ancient tunnels ran. One of those summoned hence conference had spent years in similar tunnels under Bucharest; and another had been around when they were built. And tonight, two nights after Kristoph's twilight raid on the research group's offices, they were about to meet.
Slime wreathed the sewer, forming a tide-mark three-quarters of the way up the rotting brick walls. Five metres below the streets of the city it was completely dark, and Kristoph was forced to stoop over his lantern in order to keep his head from brushing the ceiling. Jagged black shadows danced along the tunnel behind him like a retinue of silently mocking mimics. Once a pair of close-set red eyes gleamed at him from an outflow: Kris nodded at them as he shuffled towards the meeting place. There was no telling where Ancient of Days might cast her eyes and ears. He pushed onwards, ever deeper into the maze of fetid burrows beneath the city, wading knee-deep in ancient effluent. His thoughts were grim.
He arrived at a dead end. A pile of rocks and mud had collapsed through a hole in the ceiling, blocking off the tunnel ahead. Cracked and rotted timbers poked out of the heap, and a pool of black mud had gathered at its foot. Kris paused, then reached out and pushed down hard on one of the exposed timbers. With a gurgling sigh the water around his feet drained away; whirlpools swirled briefly about his ankles as he braced himself against the powerful current leading to the concealed grate. Presently the floor was dry Ц dry enough. Bending down he felt through the mud for a projecting iron ring and pulled up on it. The trapdoor was ancient but well-maintained, and he let it swing shut above him as he descended the steps below. Now there was no need for a torch. Ancient of Days had passed here before him, and where she walked darkness was not permitted. Kristoph shivered, not from cold but from awe and a slight, small dread. He had met generals of State Security and deputy directors of Central Intelligence and he had worked with assassins and spies and defectors and the other shadowy predators of the cold war jungle; but none of them possessed even a fragment of the legendary power which Ancient of Days controlled. And never before had she taken a direct interest in his affairs, to the point of requesting his attendance ...
He looked around. He stood on dry stone flooring at the bottom of a high, narrow room similar in shape to an oubliette in a mediaeval castle, except that it was considerably larger and there was a door set in one wall. It was a modern door, plywood and aluminium, and it was as jarringly out of place here as a plastic denture in the jaw of an Egyptian mummy. He shook his head disapprovingly then reached into a pocket for the key which he had been given. Then he unlocked the door and went through.
"You can leave it open," she said. Kris's head snapped round and he froze, staring at the woman who stood in the corner of the room behind him. "We're expecting three more guests," she added.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Call me Helena." She came forward, out of the shadow cast by the weak light bulb that hung from one corner of the ceiling, and Kristoph realised that she couldn't possibly be Ancient of Days; for one thing she was far too young, even though she bore the marks of encroaching middle age. Her left cheek was scarred by a patch of psoriasis, an angry red margin around a silvery, scaly patch, and with a sudden jolt Kris realised that she might actually be human. "Don't worry: I'm not as Ц human Ц as I look." She rubbed the back of one gloved hand against her cheek. "There are two others coming, then Ancient of Days herself. You brought the documents, I take it?"
Kris glanced round, taking in the rest of the room. It was furnished, albeit sparsely, with camping seats and an upturned tea-chest as a table. It was also very cold. "I'd prefer to leave that until the others arrive."
"Very well then," she said, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her coat: "it can wait. I hope you appreciate the gravity of the situation Ц"
"Lady, I'm the one who turned over the office," he said with heavy irony. "I was on the Kennedy assassination committee; I set up spy swaps during the fifties. Before that, I was site officer on Operation Silver. Trust me, I'm a professional."
She laughed, which was not unexpected, then abruptly looked away, which was. "Bullshit. Spy stuff. Fun and games." She turned back to him. "This is the real thing," she said intensely: "you'd better believe it! This is so important that Ц"
He held up a hand and she stopped. The noise of hands and feet descending a ladder was clearly audible. "We have company."
The new arrivals didn't wait around. Both of them came through the door, then stopped and stared at Kris and Ц whatever her name was Ц Helena. "Ivan Salazar and David Jakes?" asked Helena.
"Yeah," said the shorter one, removing a yellow construction-site helmet and running a pudgy hand through his thinning hair. "I'm Dave. That'n's Ivan." The taller one stood with his hands thrust deep in the outer pockets of his trench coat. Kris stiffened, automatically focusing on the bulge in Salazar's right pocket. "Sorry we're late."
"Any trouble?" asked Helena.
Ivan slowly pulled out his right hand. It was empty, and Kristoph relaxed slightly. "Not much," Ivan said in heavily-accented English. "Not much now." He grinned sharkishly and Kristoph looked back at his pocket. Must be a .22, he thought. Anything bigger would show. Now where have I seen him before?
Kristoph looked back at the tubby American and unexpectedly realised that he was being stared at. The man had exceedingly cold eyes. "No offense," he said, "but we ran into some identity verification problems a while back. Ivan hasn't had time to change yet."
"Did you deal with the problem?" asked Kris.
Ivan nodded. "He terminated it," said Jakes. "He terminated it so efficiently that half the police department are after him."
Kris looked round and caught Helena's eye.
She shook her head very slightly and shivered. "The person you've all come here to meet should be arriving any time now. I hope you don't mind waiting; she's a bit slow on her feet these days and likes to take time to look her visitors over in advance."
"Huh." Ivan stared at the plywood door, irritated by his treatment but trying not to let his resentment show. "Now you've introduced us, how about telling us why we're here? I mean, this four-star accomodation is all very flattering, but Ц"
Salazar chuckled to himself, a warm, throaty sound. "Guess, man," he said. "Just guess."
"Are you corporate?" Kris asked, raising an eyebrow. "If so, from which entity?"
"Ah." Jakes shook his head. "We're not here to talk about peripheral business. It's bad practice. Observe compartmentalisation at all times. We are all family, it's true, but we might be on different sides Ц "
Kris spat on the floor. "Human sides. Always building walls between each other. Huh." He turned to Helena. "How long until She arrives?"
"Not long now," she said. "In fact Ц"
The door opened. Ancient of Days stood waiting. Nobody moved: the sight of her condition was too shocking.
"Holy shit," whispered the one called Dave. "I had no idea Ц" He took a step forward.
Ancient of Days raised a warning arm and spoke. "Wait. Come no closer. My condition is of unknown aetiology and may prove to be infectious to your kind. Please make yourselves comfortable Ц" one obsidian pupil swept the room; a scale-encrusted nostril flared in remote amusement Ц "insofar as that may be possible. We have much to discuss."
Kris could hold his peace no longer. "What's going on?" he demanded angrily, meeting her huge eyes full on. "Why weren't we told things had gone this far? The situation may be irrecoverable!" Then he stopped, shuddering in his boots as he realised what he had just done. Ancient of Days looked down upon him and for an endless instant of terror he could hear his heart stand silent, the blood in his veins freezing as he waited for her response to his presumption.
"That is not yet the case. But, be that as it may, you are now needed here urgently. Please listen carefully; you will have your turn to reply. What I called you here to tell you about is a matter long overdue, and one that should have been dealt with years ago, before the humans reached their current dangerous state of power."
She looked round at those who were gathered to her, then re-focussed on Kristoph. "I must start by asking you a leading question, in order to judge how much you need to know at this stage. Tell me, how much do you know about genetics? And what Ц in particular Ц do you know about the so-called 'Human Genome Project'?"

***