"Michael Swanwick - Radiant Doors" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swanwick Michael)

gone.

Cause and effect. They'd done . . . whatever it was they'd done to that woman's
daughter just so they could plant the bippy with me. They wanted me to turn it in.
They wanted our government to have possession of a device that would guarantee
obedience. They wanted to give us a good taste of what it was like to be them.

Suddenly I had no doubt at all what I should do. I started out at a determined
stride, but inside of nine paces I was running. Vics scurried to get out of my way.
If they didn't move fast enough, I shoved them aside.

I had to get back to the bippy and destroy it.

Which was stupid, stupid, stupid. If I'd kept my head down and walked slowly, I
would have been invisible. Invisible and safe. The way I did it, though, cursing
and screaming, I made a lot of noise and caused a lot of fuss. Inevitably, I drew
attention to myself.

Inevitably, Gevorkian stepped into my path.

I stumbled to a halt.

"Gevorkian," I said feebly. "Linda. IтАУ"

All the lies I was about to utter died in my throat when I saw her face. Her
expression. Those eyes. Gevorkian reached for me. I skipped back in utter panic,

file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Michael%20Swanwick%20-%20Radiant%20Doors.htm (16 of 21) [12/30/2004 8:07:58 PM]
 Radiant Doors by Michael Swanwick This story first appeared in Asimov's Science Fiction, September 1998


turnedтАУand fled. Anybody else would have done the same.

It was a nightmare. The crowds slowed me. I stumbled. I had no idea where I was
going. And all the time, this monster was right on my heels.

Nobody goes into the camp after dark, unless they have to. But that doesn't mean
that nobody goes in after dark. By sheer good luck, Gevorkian chased me into the
one part of the camp that had something that outsiders could find nowhere
elseтАУthe sex-for-hire district.

There was nothing subtle about the way the vics sold themselves. The trampled-
grass street I found myself in was lined with stacks of cages like the ones they use
in dog kennels. They were festooned with strings of Christmas lights, and each
one contained a crouched boy. Naked, to best display those mods and deformities
that some found attractive. Off-duty soldiers strolled up and down the cages,
checking out the possibilities. I recognized one of them.

"Sergeant-Major Pathak!" I cried. He looked up, startled and guilty. "Help me!
Kill herтАУplease! Kill her now!"