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

teleported, sheтАЩd left me behind; sheтАЩd wanted to get away that much. Why? Why
would she run from this? But the whispers were smokey and seductive now, I
couldnтАЩt keep my mind on her, couldnтАЩt keep it away from them. . . .

The Dreamweaver held the room inside a spell for what seemed like hours, but
wasnтАЩt. A part of my own mind felt the passing of time, a dim clock marking
seconds to the beating of my heart. My concentration and my need fell inward until I
was as lost in seeking as the dreamers around me were lost inside themselves.

But dreams end, and the time came when the mindsong faded like dawn,
growing fainter, paler, farther away . . . until all that was left to me was my own mind
lying. The light in the room was brightening into sunrise; feeling it through my lids, I
opened my eyes. The Dreamweaver was drowning in light until I couldnтАЩt look at
her, couldnтАЩt see her, felt the light wash me with physical heatтАФ And she was gone.
The light imploded, left my eyes dancing with phosphenes. The other cloudsitters
began to shake themselves out, murmuring and gesturing toward the empty center.
There was no ap-plause, no calling out for more. Dazed by glissen and drugged with
wonder, they stood on air and began to drift toward the door.

Someone passed through my line of sight like a rainbow. I caught at his arm
without thinking; felt the electric prickle of the charged cloth and let go of it again.
He turned to look at me, seeing worn jeans and a leather workerтАЩs jacket, the only
kind of clothes I felt comfortable in; seeing the plain tight curls of my hair, the
half-homely strangeness of my face. He couldnтАЩt make me fit in. ... I saw him figure
me for some rich eccentric. I realized he was right, in a way, and I grinned. He
smiled, a little uncertain.

тАЬIsтАФuh, is the show always like that?тАЭ

He nodded. тАЬBut the dreams are always changing.тАЭ

тАЬIs there anyone here besides us? I mean, who runs this place? Who owns it?
Where are they?тАЭ

He shrugged. тАЬI never see anyone. But IтАЩve no doubt they watch over us all
from the other side of the sky.тАЭ He waved vaguely at infinity. His eyes were glassy.

тАЬWhat about the Dreamweaver? Who is she? Where does she go? I want to ...
want to ... thank her.тАЭ

He laughed. тАЬShe sees into our minds; no doubt she sees our gratitude there.
Who knows where she goes, or who she is? ItтАЩs all a part of her mystery. Knowing
too much would spoil it.тАЭ He leaned forward, sharing a secret. тАЬAnyway, sheтАЩs not
human, you know.тАЭ

I felt my face close. тАЬNeither am I.тАЭ

He half frowned. тАЬThatтАЩs not funny.тАЭ

тАЬI know.тАЭ I looked back again at the emptiness where sheтАЩd been; feeling the