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

followed, searching and asking around the Oldcity streetsтАжgetting nowhere. IтАЩd
known all my life how the information root system grew in Oldcity, thick and
tangled; sending shoots up into the light among the shining towers of Quarro. Now I
had money to back me, something IтАЩd never had before; a key to OldcityтАЩs hidden
doors that had always been closed to me. But still I got nowhere. Whoever
controlled the Haven, and the Dreamweaver, wanted it kept a secret.


And meanwhile I went back again and again, like an addict, to drop another
hundred credits at the HavenтАЩs door and sit on clouds and needles, waiting. Until
infinity would open once more and show her to me, let her reach out to me and into
me, touching my need. And every night I tried to catch her eyes, complete the
circuit, give her something in returnтАФjust my name, just my gratitude, Ask me, ask
me for anything. But there was never an answer, never a sign that she felt anything.
Her control was complete, and I was a blind man asking her to let me guide her. I
wondered if she laughed at me, somewhere behind the inhuman peace of her face. If
she was suffering there was no sign of it. Any suffering was mine, anger and
frustration eating at me until it was all I could do not to get up from where I sat night
after night and cross the space that separated us like the barrier in my mind. Always
knowing that if I ever tried it sheтАЩd disap-pear, and IтАЩd never see her even this way
again.

There were other regulars in this place. I got to know them by sight, although
none of them ever talked about why they came, or what they felt, sharing the
forbidden fruit of telepa-thy. Some of them were even combine or Transport
Authority officials, wearing power and arrogance like their fine upside clothes. And
they were all perverts. Most of them probably swore they hated psions when they
were back in the daylight; most of them probably did. Jule said they hated psions
be-cause they were afraidтАФand because they wanted what we had. IтАЩd never
believed her, until now. You could satisfy any hunger in Oldcity, if you had the
price. If you were willing to pay enough, you could even call it entertainment. I tried
to find a little pleasure in watching their faces get soft and slack from glissen and
psidreams.

And one night, watching, I saw something happen IтАЩd never seen before. At
the end of the regular show, after the Dreamweaver had disappeared and the crowd
was drifting toward the door, the hologram host came back through the crack in
space and caught one of the guests with a word. The man nodded, lighting up like a
lottery winner, and followed it into somewhere else. I started after them when I saw
them disappear. But as soon as I did infinity went black ahead of me; a soft, clammy
wall of nothing was suddenly between me and the place I was trying to reach. I
turned back, disgusted, and went out with the rest.

The lucky winner was back the next night, as if nothing had happened; but he
wore a strange smile when he watched the Dreamweaver appear. And a couple of
nights later I saw the same thing happen to someone else. Again I tried to follow;
again I ran into a soft wall. Somehow, a few of the ones who came here were being
chosen for something extra; but no one would tell me what, if I didnтАЩt already know.
And no matter how often I asked her with my mind, the Dream-weaver never
answered me.