"Peter Watts - Blindsight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watts Peter)

inconceivable and catastrophic meltdown. Everything was
reversible, we were told. And yetтАФthere were so many who had
ascended, and not even the deepest catacombs go on forever.
There were rumors of dismemberment, of nonessential body parts
hewn away over time according to some optimum-packing
algorithm. Perhaps Helen would be a torso this time next year, a
disembodied head the year after. Perhaps her chassis would be
stripped down to the brain before we'd even left the building,
awaiting only that final technological breakthrough that would
herald the arrival of the Great Digital Upload.
Rumors, as I say. I personally didn't know of anyone who'd
come back after ascending, but then why would anyone want to?
Not even Lucifer left Heaven until he was pushed.
Dad might have known for sureтАФDad knew more than most
people, about the things most people weren't supposed to knowтАФ
but he never told tales out of turn. Whatever he knew, he'd
obviously decided its disclosure wouldn't have changed Helen's
mind. That would have been enough for him.
We donned the hoods that served as day passes for the Unwired,
and we met my mother in the spartan visiting room she imagined
for these visits. She'd built no windows into the world she
occupied, no hint of whatever utopian environment she'd
constructed for herself. She hadn't even opted for one of the
prefab visiting environments designed to minimize dissonance
among visitors. We found ourselves in a featureless beige sphere
five meters across. There was nothing in there but her.
Maybe not so far removed from her vision of utopia after all, I
thought.
My father smiled. "Helen."
Peter Watts 23 Blindsight

"Jim." She was twenty years younger than the thing on the bed,
and still she made my skin crawl. "Siri! You came!"
She always used my name. I don't think she ever called me son.
"You're still happy here?" my father asked.
"Wonderful. I do wish you could join us."
Jim smiled. "Someone has to keep the lights on."
"Now you know this isn't goodbye," she said. "You can visit
whenever you like."
"Only if you do something about the scenery." Not just a joke,
but a lie; Jim would have come at her call even if the gauntlet
involved bare feet and broken glass.
"And Chelsea, too," Helen continued. "It would be so nice to
finally meet her after all this time."
"Chelsea's gone, Helen," I said.
"Oh yes but I know you stay in touch. I know she was special to
you. Just because you're not together any more doesn't mean she
can'tтАФ"
"You know sheтАФ"
A startling possibility stopped me in mid-sentence: maybe I