"Michael Swanwick - Trojan Horse" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swanwick Michael)

Coral was cute as a button.



A bowl of fruit and vegetables had been left near the waterline. She walked to the bowl, considered it.
Her orange jumpsuit nicely complemented her cafe-au-lait skin. She was so small and delicate that by
contrast Elin felt ungainly.
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"We also use passive heat pumps to move the excess heat down to a liquid-storage cavern below the
lake."



Coral picked up a tomato. Her features were finely chiseled. Her almond eyes should have had snap and
fire in them, to judge by the face, but they were remote and unfocused. Even, white teeth nipped at the
food.



"At night we pump the heat back up, let the lake radiate it out to keep the crater warm."



On closer examination-Elin had to squint to see so fine- the face was as smooth and lineless as that of an
idiot. There was nothing there; no emotion, no purpose, no detectable intellect.



"That's why the number of waterfalls in operation varies."



Now Coral sat down on the rocks. Her feet and knees were dirty. She did not move. Elin wanted to shy
a rock at her to see if she would react.



What now? Elin wondered. She had seen the sights, all that Magritte had to offer, and they were all
tiresome, disappoint-ing. Even-no, make that especially-God. And she still had almost a month to kill.



"Keeping the crater tempered is a regular balancing act," the agtech said.