"Walter Jon Williams - The Green Leopard Plague" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Walter John)

bag. She filleted the emperor with a blade she kept in her nest, and tossed the rest into the sea,
where it became a subject of interest to a school of bait fish. She ate a slice of one fillet raw,
enjoying the brilliant flavor, sea and trembling pale flesh together, then cooked the fillets on
her small stove, eating one with some rice sheтАЩd cooked the previous evening and saving the other
for later.

By the time Michelle finished breakfast, the island was alive. Geckoes scurried over the banyanтАЩs
bark, and coconut crabs sidled beneath the leaves like touts offering illicit downloads to passing
tourists. Out in the deep water, a flock of circling, diving black noddies marked where a school
of skipjack tuna was feeding on swarms of bait fish.

It was time for Michelle to begin her day as well. With sure, steady feet, she moved along a rope
walkway to the ironwood tree that held her satellite uplink in its crown, straddled a limb, took
her deck from the mesh bag sheтАЩd roped to the tree, and downloaded her messages.



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There were several journalists requesting interviewsтАУthe legend of the lonely mermaid was
spreading. This pleased her more often than not, but she didnтАЩt answer any of the queries. There
was a message from Darton, which she decided to savor for a while before opening. And then she saw
a note from Dr. Davout, and opened it at once.

Davout was, roughly, twelve times her age. HeтАЩd actually been carried for nine months in his
motherтАЩs womb, not created from scratch in a nanobed like almost everyone else she knew. He had a
sib who was a famous astronaut, a McEldowny Prize for his Lavoisier and His Age, and a red-haired
wife who was nearly as well-known as he was. A couple of years ago, Michelle had attended a series
of his lectures at the College of Mystery, and been interested despite her specialty being,
strictly speaking, biology.

He had shaved off the little goatee heтАЩd worn when sheтАЩd last seen him, which Michelle considered
a good thing. "I have a research project for you, if youтАЩre free," the recording said. "It
shouldnтАЩt take too much effort."

Michelle contacted him at once. He was a rich old bastard with a thousand years of tenure and no
notion of what it was to be young in these times, and heтАЩd pay her whatever outrageous fee she
asked.

Her material needs at the moment were few, but she wouldnтАЩt stay on this island forever.

Davout answered right away. Behind him, working at her own console, Michelle could see his red-
haired wife Katrin.

"Michelle!" Davout said, loudly enough for Katrin to know whoтАЩd called without turning around.
"Good!" He hesitated, and then his fingers formed the mudra for . "I understand youтАЩve
suffered a loss," he said.

"Yes," she said, her answer delayed by a secondтАЩs satellite lag.

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