"Jeff VanderMeer - A Heart For Lucretia" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vandermeer Jeff)

moment.
Human hearts, now, those are rare. We have only one or two."
"However," said Whitey, "there is one way in which we might be
persuaded
to part with such a heart..."
"Yes?" said Gerard, afraid of the answer. He had volunteered his own
heart
before, but that had been with the assurance of care, faulty though it
might have been, from the autodoc.
"It would involve both you and Flesh Dog," said Yellow slyly.
"It would take six months," said Whitey.
The delightful warmth had crept up his chest, the cold following
behind.
"Afterwards we would let you go..." Whitey held his hands while Yellow
caressed his neck. "And in return, we give Lucretia a heart..."
"How soon?" Gerard asked. "How soon?" He shivered under Yellow's touch.
"Immediately," whispered Yellow in his ear. "Flesh for flesh. You must
simply show us on a map where your creche lies--you do know what a map
is?--and we will send it by hovercraft. We do not break our word."
"So what of it, friend Gerard," said Whitey. "Do you agree?"
 Gerard turned to Flesh Dog.
"What do you think, Flesh Dog?"
Flesh Dog peered at him through its fleshy folds. It turned to the
Flesh
Dog heads on the shelf--and howled. And howled, as though its heart had
been broken. Then, with a sideways stutter, it leaned into the floor
and
was still, trembling around the mouth.
"Poor, poor machine," hummed Whitey. "It has forgotten it is a machine.
So
many years in service. Poor, poor machine..."
"Rip their throats," growled Flesh Dog from the floor. "Rip their
throats?" The growl became a moan, and then incoherent. Gerard would
have
comforted it as it had comforted him in the elevator, but he was too
numb.

"Do you agree?" Yellow asked, one eye on Flesh Dog.
"Yes," Gerard said, immobile in the chair now, able only to swivel his
head. He imagined he could feel his sister's heartbeat become more
regular, could feel a glow of health return to her cheeks. This, and
this
alone, kept him from panic, from giving over to the fear which ached in
his bones. "Yes!" he said with a drunken recklessness, at the same time
knowing he had no choice.
"You will leave with a smile upon your face," Whitey promised.
"Oh yes, you will," sang Yellow gleefully, taking out the knives.

As for the ending, there are many. Perhaps the next day, the next
month,