"Michael Swanwick - Vacumn Flowers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swanwick Michael)

WEREWOLFVAMPIRES GOTO HELL. Someone had made
a serious effort to erase a wheel logo with the words
EARTH FRIEND about it. Beneath the graffiti a workman
sat on a crate facing the wall. He had removed an access
hatch and was cyborged into a tangle of color-coded wires.
Around a corner they passed a sling city. The burn cases
stumbled down, looking for handouts. They babbled in
endless monotones, their minds rotted out with God, sex,
information, their reflexes shattered, their faces
vacant-eyed and twitching. Heisen hissed and stepped up
his pace. тАЬScum!тАЭ he gasped once they were safely past.
тАЬThey ought to beтАжтАЭ They turned down a yet smaller run
where garbage was mulched thin against the street and
starting to ferment. The stench of rotting squid and old
grease hung in the air, and the soles of RebelтАЩs feet were
going black.
Rebel glanced at Heisen and was shocked to see the man
was trembling. Sweat poured down a face gone fishbelly
 white. тАЬGod damn, sport,тАЭ she said. тАЬWhatтАЩs wrong with
you?тАЭ
тАЬItтАЩs just the wetware.тАЭ Heisen waved a hand at his face.
тАЬI keep the imaginative processes cranked way up, so IтАЩll
be fast to pick up on the main chance, right? Makes me a
touchтАж paranoid, though.тАЭ They stepped down a slanting
gallery where most of the overheads had been smashed or
stolen. Exhaust fans grumbled in shadow. Tangles of black
cable drooped from the ceiling; they had to duck under the
lower loops. тАЬGod damn her,тАЭ Heisen fretted. тАЬShe doesnтАЩt
have to have her office down here, she just wants all that
space. I wishтАжтАЭ They rounded a final corner and he
pointed to a door grey with urban grime. тАЬHere.тАЭ
Over the doorway hung a flickering neon switchblade, a
piece of antique technology that must have cost a fortune
to recreate. It buzzed and crackled, tinging the shadows
red. The knifeтАЩs blade blinked off and on, as if snapping in
and out of the handle. On the center of the door was taped
a small white rectangle, a business card:
snow
the cutting edge
ostend kropotkinkorridor bei berkmangallerie
neues-hoch-kamden, E.K.
тАЬSnow?тАЭ Heisen said uncertainly.
The door opened, and they stepped within.
***
Whatever Rebel might have been expecting, it was not
this: a room so large and empty she could not guess its
size. Eggshell-textured walls, white and featureless. No
furniture. The only item in all that space was a small
prayer rug in its center. A solitary figure knelt there, hood
down, shaven head bowed. The room was chilled to an