"John Varley - The Barbie Murders" - читать интересную книгу автора (Varley John)

never using the singular pronoun.

"We're supposed to meet someone at the temple," she said. "How do we get there?"

"Through that doorway," the woman said. "It leads to

Main Street. Follow the street to the temple. But you really should cover yourselves."

"Huh? What do you mean?" Bach was not aware of anything wrong with the way she and Weil were
dressed. True, neither of them wore as much as the barbies did. Bach wore her usual blue nylon briefs in
addition to a regulation uniform cap, arm and thigh bands, and cloth-soled slippers. Her weapon,
communicator, and handcuffs were fastened to a leather equipment belt.

"Cover yourself," the barbie said, with a pained look. "You're flaunting your differentness. And you, with
all that hair ..." There were giggles and a few shouts from the other barbies.

"Police business," Weil snapped.

"Uh, yes," Bach said, feeling annoyed that the barbie had put her on the defensive. After all, this was
New Dresden, it was a public thoroughfare-even though by tradition and usage a Standardist enclave-and
they were entitled to dress as they wished.

Main Street was a narrow, mean little place. Bach had expected a promenade like those in the shopping
districts of New Dresden; what she found was indistinguishable from a residential corridor. They drew
curious stares and quite a few frowns from the identical people they met.

There was a modest plaza at the end of the street. It had a low roof of bare metal, a few trees, and a
blocky stone building in the center of a radiating network of walks.

A barbie who looked just like all the others met them at the entrance. Bach asked if she was the one Weil
had spoken to on the phone, and she said she was. Bach wanted to know if they could go inside to talk.


file:///G|/rah/John%20Varley%20-%20The%20Barbie%20Murders.html (4 of 27) [2/17/2004 10:57:06 AM]
 The Barbie Murders

The barbie said the temple was off limits to outsiders and suggested they sit on a bench outside the
building.

When they were settled, Bach started her questioning.

"First, I need to know your name, and your title. I assume that you are ... what was it?" She consulted her
notes, taken hastily from a display she had called up on the computer terminal in her office. "I don't seem
to have found a title for you."

"We have none," the barbie said. "If you must think of a title, consider us as the keeper of records."

"All right. And your name?"

"We have no name."