"Brin, David - Natulife" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brin David)

human scent. Another hundred yards beyond the herd, where the sparse pampas
faded into a hazy stand of acacia trees, I glimpsed the rest of our hunting
party, creeping forward.

My hunters. My tribe.

I was tempted to reach up and adjust the virtu-reality helmet, which fed this
artificial world to my eyes and ears . . . to zoom in on those distant human
images. Alas, except for Long Stick, I had never met any of the other hunters up
close. Good persona programs aren't cheap, and with a baby coming, there were
other things for Gaia and me to spend money on.

Yeah, like a cramroy termite hive! Resentment fed on surging adrenaline. Never
trust a gatherer. That was the hunters' creed. Love 'era, protect 'era, die for
them, but always remember, their priorities are different.

The beaters stood as one, shouting. The gazelles reared, wheeling the other way
-- toward us. Long Stick hissed. "Here they come!"

The Accu-Terrain floor thrummed beneath my feet to the charge of a hundred
hooves. Sensu-Surround earphones brought the stampede roar of panicky beasts
thundering toward us, wild-eyed with ardor to survive.

Clutching my spear in sweaty palms, I crouched as graceful animals vaulted
overhead, ribcages heaving.

Meanwhile, a faint, subsonic mantra recited. I am part of nature . . . one with
nature . . .

The young, and breeding females, we let flash by without harm. But then,
trailing and already foaming with fatigue, came the old buck, its leap leaden,
unsteady, and I knew the program really was taking it easy on me today.

Long Stick howled. I sprinted from cover, swiftly taking the lead. The
auto-treadmill's bumps and gullies matched whatever terrain the goggles showed
me, so my feet knew how to land and thrust off again. The body suit brushed my
skin with synthetic wind. Flared nostrils inhaled sweat, exhilaration, and for a
time I forgot I was in a tiny room on the eightieth floor of a suburban Chitown
con-apt, surrounded by fifty million neighbors.

I was deep in the past of my forebears, back in a time when men were few, and
therefore precious, magical.

Back when nature thrived . . . and included us.

Easy workout or no, I got up a good sweat before the beast was cornered against
a stand of jagged saw grass. The panting gazelle's black eye met mine with more
than resignation. In it I saw tales of past battles and matings. Of countless
struggles won, and finally lost. I couldn't have felt more sympathy if he'd been
real.