"James Tiptree Jr. - Houston, Houston Do You Read" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tiptree James Jr)

"Of course. Historical plays."

Lorimer's brain seems to be expanding, letting in light. He is understanding
actively now, the myriad bits and pieces linking into pattern. Deadly
patterns, he perceives; but the drug is shielding him in some

way. Like an amphetamine high without the pressure.
Maybe it's something they use socially? No, they're
watching, too. 'тАв

"Space bunnies, I still don't dig it," Bud Geirr laughs infectiously. He has a
friendly buoyant voice people like; Lorimer still likes it after two years.

"You chicks have kids back home, what do your folks think about you flying
around out here with old Andy, h'mm?" Bud floats into view, his arm draped
around a twin's shoulders. The one called Judy Paris, Lorimer decides; the
twins are hard to tell. She drifts passively at an angle to Bud's big body: a
jut-breasted plain girl in flowing yellow pajamas, her black hair raying out.
Andy's read head swims up to them. He is holding a big green spaceball,
looking about sixteen.
"Old Andy." Bud shakes his head, his grin flashing, under his thick dark
mustache. "When I was your age-.: folks didn't let their women fly around with
me."

Connie's lips quirk faintly. In Lorimer's head the pieces slide toward
pattern. I know, he thinks. Do you. know I know? His head is vast and
crystalline, very nice really. Easier to think. Women.... No compact
generalization forms in his mind, only a few speaking ;f faces on a matrix of
pervasive irrelevance. Human, of course. Biological necessity. Only so, so . .
. diffuse? Pointless? . . . His sister Amy, soprano con tremolo: `50f course
women could contribute as much as men if you'd treat us as equals. You'll
see!" And then marrying that idiot the second time. Well, now he., can see.

"Kudzu vines," he says aloud. Connie smiles. How they all smile.

"How 'boot that?" Bud says happily. "Ever think j we'd see chicks in zero gee,
hey, Dave? Artits-stico. Woo-ee!" Across the cabin Dave's bearded head turns
to him, not smiling.

"And of Andy's had it all to his self. Stunt your, growth, lad." He punches
Andy genially on the arm, Andy catches himself on the bulkhead. But can't be
drunk, Lorimer thinks; not on that fruit cider. But he
doesn't usually sound so much like a stage Texan either. A drug.

"Hey, no offense," Bud is saying earnestly to the boy, "I mean that. You have
to forgive one underprilly, underprivileged, brother. These chicks are good
people. Know what?" he tells the girl, "You could look stupendous if you fix
yourself up a speck. Hey, I can show you, old Buddy's a expert. I hope you
don't mind my saying that. As a matter of fact you look real stupendous to me
right now."