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

out of adjustment. Would you take a look at them?тАЭ Then,
when the womanтАЩs hands were deep in the wires, she said,
тАЬYou know, thereтАЩs a verse by one of your prophets thatтАЩs
been running through my head. But IтАЩve forgotten part. It
starts: тАШTormented by thirst of the spirit, I was dragging
myself through a gloomy forest when a six-winged seraph
appeared to me at the crossroads.тАЩ Are you familiar with
that? Then it goesтАЭтАФshe closed her eyes, as if trying to
bring up the wordsтАФтАЬ тАШHe touched my eyes with fingers
light as a dream, and my eyes opened wide as those of a
frightened she eagle. He touched my earsтАжтАЩ and I forget
the rest.тАЭ
Sister Mary RadhaтАЩs hands stopped moving. For one
still, extended moment she said nothing. Then the nun
stared up into the infinite depths of night and murmured,
 тАЬSaint Pushkin.тАЭ Her voice rose. тАЬ тАШHe touched my ears,
and roaring and noise filled them, and I heard the
trembling of the angels, and the movement of creatures
beneath the seas, and the growing of the grass in the
valleys! And he laid hold of my lips, and tore out my sinful
tongueтАФтАЩ тАЭ She arched her back and shivered in religious
ecstasy. Her hands jerked spasmodically. One of the
adhesion disks was yanked askew, and RebelтАЩs head
slammed to the side. But she was still paralyzed.
тАЬSister,тАЭ Rebel said quietly. тАЬSister?тАЭ
тАЬMmmm?тАЭ the nun replied dreamily.
тАЬThe doctor wanted you to remove my paralysis now. Do
you remember that? He asked me to remind you.тАЭ Rebel
held her breath. This was the moment when she either
won free or lost it all. Everything depended on how long it
took Sister Mary Radha to reconnect with reality.
тАЬOh,тАЭ the nun said. She fumbled with a switch, haltingly
changed two settings. With somnambulant slowness, she
lifted off the disks. Then she shook her head, smiling
vaguely, and wandered out.
Rebel let out her breath. She could move! But for a long
minute she did not, choosing instead to stare up, unseeing.
The memory of her reflection in the video flat,
foreshortened and distorted though it had been, pinned
her to the cot with dread. At last she gathered up courage
and gingerly, haltingly, held up an arm before her eyes.
Slowly she rotated it.
The arm was whole and its muscles shifted smoothly.
The skin was a soft, Italian brown, unscarred, lightly
fuzzed with fine dark hair. The fingers were short, the
nails a pearly pink. Horrified, Rebel sat bolt upright and
stared down her body.
Her breasts were round and full. Her thighs were a trifle
heavy, but still muscular. The hospital had left her
cache-sexe on for modestyтАЩs sake, but above it a thin line of