"Baxter, Stephen - Manifold 03 - Origin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Baxter Stephen)

took her through her final instructions: how she should close her canopy bubble,
where to fasten a hook to a ring on a parachute, how to change the timing of her
parachute opening. She watched the back of Malenfant's head, his jerky tension
as he prepared his plane.

Malenfant taxied the jet to the end of the runway. Emma watched the stick move
before her, slaved to Malenfant's movements. Her oxygen mask smelled of hot
rubber, and the roar of the jets was too loud for her to make out anything of
Malenfant's conversation with the ground.

Do you ever think of me, Malenfant? There was a mighty shove at her back.



Fire:

Stone drops the branches. Sing rolls to the ground. Stone has forgotten her
again. The sun is low. They are close to a thick stand of trees. Fire can smell
water.

Fire is tired. His stomach is empty. His hands are sore. 'Hungry Fire hungry,'
he moans.

Sing, on the ground, looks up at him. She smiles. 'Hungry Fire,' she says. He
thinks of her feeding him. But she is small and withered. She does not get up to
feed him.

Stone walks over the branches he hauled across the savannah, the branches that
transported Sing. He kicks them aside. He has forgotten he hauled them here. He
bends. His hands seek out a piece of dung on the ground. His tongue tastes it.
It is Nutcracker-man dung. The dung is old. The dung crumbles.

Fire is not fearful. There are no Nutcracker-men near here.

Stone's feet kick aside more branches and twigs. He uncovers a round patch of
black ground. Fire's nose smells ash. Stone hoots. 'Hah! Fire Fire.'

Fire crouches over the ash. The fire is warm in his hands.

Loud and Dig and others huddle near him. Their hands scrape dry stuff from the
floor, dead leaves and dry moss and grass and bits of bark. Their hands pick up
rocks, and rub the tinder against the rocks. Their fingers turn the tinder,
making it fine and light.

Wood's legs walk to the forest. She comes back with a bundle of sticks, of wood.
That is what she does. That is her name. She piles the sticks on the ground.

The hands of the others push the tinder into the middle of the pile of wood.

Working closely, the people jostle each other. They are hot from the walk. Their