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

converted to a barbie."

His face fell. "Oh, no, what a tragedy! I can't allow it. My dear, it would be a crime." He reached over to
her and touched her chin lightly, turning her head. "No, Lieutenant, for you I'd build up the hollows in the
cheeks just the slightest bit-maybe tighten up the muscles behind them-then drift the orbital bones out a
little bit farther from the nose to set your eyes wider. More attention-getting, you understand. That touch
of mystery. Then of course there's your nose."

She pushed his hand away and shook her head. "No, I'm not coming to you for the operation. I just want
to know. How much work would it entail, and how close can you come to the specs of the church?" Then
she frowned and looked at him suspiciously. "What's wrong with my nose?"

"Well, my dear, I didn't mean to imply there was anything wrong; in fact, it has a certain overbearing

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 The Barbie Murders

power that must be useful to you once in a while, in the circles you move in. Even the lean to the left
could be justified, aesthetically-"

"Never mind," she said, angry at herself for having fallen into his sales pitch. "Just answer my question."

He studied her carefully, asked her to stand up and turn around. She was about to object that she had not
necessarily meant herself personally as the surgical candidate, just a woman in general, when he seemed
to lose interest in her.

"It wouldn't be much of a job," he said. "Your height is just slightly over the parameters; I could take that
out of your thighs and lower legs, maybe shave some vertebrae. Take out some fat here and put it back
there. Take off those nipples and dig out your uterus and ovaries, sew up your crotch. With a man, chop
off the penis. I'd have to break up your skull a little and shift the bones around, then build up the face
from there. Say two days work, one overnight and one outpatient."

"And when you were through, what would be left to identify me?"

"Say that again?"

Bach briefly explained her situation, and Atlas pondered it.

"You've got a problem. I take off the fingerprints and footprints. I don't leave any external scars, not even
microscopic ones. No moles, freckles, warts or birthmarks; they all have to go. A blood test would work,
and so would a retinal print. An x-ray of the skull. A voiceprint would be questionable. I even that out as
much as possible. I can't think of anything else."

"Nothing that could be seen from a purely visual exam?"

"That's the whole point of the operation, isn't it?"

"I know. I was just hoping you might know something even the barbies were not aware of. Thank you,
anyway."