"Joan D. Vinge - Psiren" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vinge Joan D)

PSIREN
By Joan D. Vinge
Scanned & Proofed By MadMaxAU

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I donтАЩt know why she came that evening. Maybe it was for the reasons she gave me,
maybe not. If IтАЩd known her mind the way I used to, when I was really a telepath,
maybe everything would have come out differently.

But I might as well have been a blind man, falling over furniture in silent
rooms, with just glimmers of gray to show me there was still a world outside my
own head. And so I didnтАЩt even know she was there until I heard her voice, тАЬKnock
knock.тАЭ Jule never used the stairs, so I never heard her coming. She didnтАЩt need to.
SheтАЩd just be there, like some nightwisp whoтАЩd come to grant you a few wishes. I
didnтАЩt mind that she came in first and knocked afterwards; weтАЩd shared too much
for that.

I climbed down from the sleeping platform high up under a constellation of
ceiling cracks. тАЬHowтАЩre you?тАЭ There was a time when I wouldnтАЩt have needed to
ask.

тАЬLonely.тАЭ She smiled, that quirky, half-sad smile. I stared at her, my eyes
registering her for my mind because my mind couldnтАЩt see her. Black hair falling to
her waist, gray eyes deeper than the night; the birdтАЩs nest of shawls and soft
formless overshirts wrapping her long thin body. Protec-tion . . . like mind layers. At
least they were in bright colors now, pinks and purples and blues instead of the dead
black sheтАЩd worn when I first met her. She was pushing thirty standards, had more
than ten years on me, but she was still the most beautiful woman IтАЩd ever seen.
Because IтАЩd seen her from the inside. Nothing would ever change the feeling I had
for herтАФnot the future, not the past, not the fact that she was married to another
man.

тАЬDoc will be back in a couple of days.тАЭ

тАЬI know, Cat.тАЭ Her forehead pinched; she was angryтАФat herself, for letting
need show.

тАЬSomebodyтАЩs got to mind the mindreaders,тАЭ I said. тАЬAnd youтАЩre better at it
than he is.тАЭ She glanced at me, surprised and questioning. тАЬI remember how your
mind works,тАЭ I shrugged. тАЬSo does Doc. YouтАЩve got the empathy, heтАЩs got
credentials. So he hustles the cause, you hold the fort.тАЭ And I sit up here pretending
to be one of his healers, instead of one of the cripples. тАЬYouтАЩre lucky you miss him
. . . and soтАЩs he.тАЭ I moved two steps to the window set in the thick slab of wall.
Looking out I saw the building straight across the alley staring back at me, black
ancient eyes of glass sunk deep in its sagging face. I listened to the groans and sighs
of the one we stood in; the real voice of buried Oldcity, not the distant music in the
streets. I refocused on my own reflection, a ghost trapped inside the grimy
paneтАФdark skin, pale curly hair, green eyes with pupils that were vertical slits; a face
that made people uneasy. I looked away from it.