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

footing. Point me the right way out, and IтАЩd be grateful.тАЭ
тАЬOh bullshit,тАЭ the man said. тАЬTheyтАЩdтАЩve caught you
already if anybody knew you were missing yet.тАЭ Rebel
yanked her arm free and found that her new, unfamiliar
body was trembling with adrenalin reaction. The man
smiled condescendingly. тАЬListen, I know somebody who
can help you out of this mess. Do you want to meet her or
not?тАЭ
***
They were on the spine of their habitat island, where the
giant druid oaks grew. One spread its limbs over the
commercial maze of shops and taverns bordering the
hospital. Its trunk reached halfway to the axis. Looking up
as they strolled, Rebel saw stars blinking in its upper
reaches, appearing and disappearing in the gaps between
leaves. тАЬHell of a stunt, escaping from full therapeutic
paralysis,тАЭ the man said. тАЬIтАЩd love to know how you did it.тАЭ
Then, when she did not respond, тАЬHey. My nameтАЩs Jerzy
Heisen.тАЭ
In among the branches, leaves descended slowly, barely
moving through the suspended dust, as if the air had
thickened to hold them up. In the soft light, the dust and
leaves shared a stillness that was actually slow, tireless
motion, an endless eddying as ponderous and inevitable
as the rotation of spiral galaxies. тАЬIs that so?тАЭ Rebel
wished she could climb up the tree, in among the floating
twigs and detritus, so like the vast tidal fronts of home. тАЬI
take it from your knowing hints that I neednтАЩt bother
introducing myself.тАЭ
тАЬOh, I know all about you.тАЭ They passed between
displays of body jewelry: silverplated armbands gleaming
softly under blue spots, some sparkling with Lunar
diamonds, impact emeralds, even Columbian tourmaline.
тАЬYouтАЩre a persona bum, currently suffering from a major
personality erasureтАФself-induced, by the wayтАФand held
together by a prototypical identity overlay that is, properly
speaking, the property of the Deutsche Nakasone
Gesellschaft. Your name is Eucrasia Walsh.тАЭ
тАЬNo, itтАЩsтАФтАЭ She stopped, bewildered. The name did
sound familiar, in a crazy kind of way, as if Heisen had put
a name to all that was ugly within her, to all the
self-pitying and wounded hatred she sank into when her
mood turned dark. The stale, dusty smell of defeat and
weary guilt rose up within her, and she ducked her head.
Heisen took her elbow and urged her forward.
тАЬConfused, eh? Well, thatтАЩs perfectly normal,тАЭ he said,
тАЬunder the circumstances.тАЭ
She looked directly at him then, and something about
his face, the small pinched lines of it, the long narrow
nose, that brush of red hairтАж She knew that face. It took