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

"You're identifying with the woman who used to be Elin Donnelly. There's nothing wrong with that;
speaking as a wetsurgeon, it's a healthy sign. But it's something you've got to grow out of.''



"Listen, Shostokovich, tinkering with my emotions doesn't change who I am. I'm not your dead lady
friend, and I'm not about to take her place. So why don't you just go away and stop jerking me around,
huh?"



Tiny repair robots prowled the mass driver's length, stop-ping occasionally for a spotweld. Blue sparks
sputtered sound-lessly over the surface.



"You're not the old Elin Donnelly either, and I think you know it. Bodies are transient, memories are
nothing. Your spontaneity and grace, your quiet strength, your impatience- the small lacks and presences
of you I've known and loved for years-are what make you yourself. The name doesn't matter, nor the
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past. You are who you are, and I love you for it."



"Yeah, well, what I am does not love you, buster."



One of the repairbots slowly fell off the driver. It hit, bounced, struggled to regain its treads, then
scooted back toward its work.



Tory's voice was almost regretful. "You do, though. You can't hide that from me. I know you as your
lover and as your wetsurgeon. You've let me become a part of you, and no matter how angry you might
temporarily be, you'll come back to me."



Elin could feel her body trembling with rage. "Yeah, well if that's true, then why tell me! Hah? Why not
just go back to your hut and wait for me to come crawling?"