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

"Take a look," Landis said, and patched her into the intercom. In her mind's eye, Elin could see dozens
of wetware techs submitting program after program. A branching wetware diagram filled one channel,
and as she watched, minor changes would occur as programs took hold, then be unmade as Tory's mind
rejected them. "We've got an imagery tap of his Weltanschauung coming up," some nameless tech
reported.



Something horrible appeared on a blank channel.



Elin could take only an instant's exposure before her mind reflexively shut the channel down, but that
instant was more than enough. She stood in a room infinitely large and clut-tered with great, noisome
machines.



They were tended by malevolent demons who shrieked and cackled and were machines themselves, and
they generated pain and madness.



The disgust and revulsion she felt was absolute. It could not be put into words-no more than could the
actual experi-ence of what she had seen. And yet-she knew this much about wetware techniques-it was
only a rough approxima-tion, a cartoon, of what was going through Tory's head.



Elin's body trembled with shock, and by slow degrees she realized that she had retreated to the surface
world.



Tory's head was still cradled in her arms. A wetware tech standing nearby looked stunned, her face
gray.
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Elin gathered herself together, said as gently as she could, "Tory, what is that you're seeing?"



Tory turned his stark, haunted eyes on her, and it took an effort of will not to flinch. Then he spoke, his
words shock-ingly calm.