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

Bach sighed. "Yes, I understand that you forsake names when you come here. But you had one before.
You were given one at birth. I'm going to have to have it for my investigation."

The woman looked pained. "No, you don't understand. It is true that this body had a name at one time.
But it has been wiped from this one's mind. It would cause this one a great deal of pain to be reminded of
it." She stumbled verbally every time she said "this one." Evidently even a polite circumlocution of the
personal pronoun was distressing.

"I'll try to get it from another angle, then." This was already getting hard to deal with, Bach saw, and
knew it could only get tougher. "You say you are the keeper of records."

"We are. We keep records because the law says we must. Each citizen must be recorded, or so we have
been told."

"For a very good reason," Bach said. "We're going to need access to those records. For the investigation.
You understand? I assume an officer has already been through them, or the deceased couldn't have been
identified as Leah P. In-graham."

"That's true. But it won't be necessary for you to go through the records again. We are here to confess.
We murdered L. P. Ingraham, serial number 11005. We are surrendering peacefully. You may take us to
your prison." She held out her hands, wrists close together, ready to be shackled.

Weil was startled, reached tentatively for his handcuffs, then looked to Bach for guidance.

"Let me get this straight. You're saying you're the one who did it? You, personally."



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 The Barbie Murders

"That's correct. We did it. We have never defied temporal authority, and we are willing to pay the
penalty."

"Once more." Bach reached out and grasped the barbie's wrist, forced the hand open, palm up. "This is
the person, this is the body that committed the murder? This hand, this one right here, held the knife and
killed Ingraham? This hand, as opposed to 'your' thousands of other hands?"

The barbie frowned.

"Put that way, no. This hand did not grasp the murder weapon. But our hand did. What's the difference?"

"Quite a bit, in the eyes of the law." Bach sighed, and let go of the woman's hand. Woman? She
wondered if the term applied. She realized she needed to know more about Stan-dardists. But it was
convenient to think of them as such, since their faces were feminine.

"Let's try again. I'll need you-and the eyewitnesses to the crime-to study the tape of the murder. I can't
tell the difference between the murderer, the victim, or any of the bystanders. But surely you must be
able to. I assume that... well, like the old saying went, 'all chinamen look alike.' That was to Caucasian