"Ellen Datlow - SciFiction Originals vol.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Datlow Ellen)

Walking felt more like skating, or skiing. Maybe it was supposed to be sort of pleasant but he didn't much care for
it. There was a greasy sensation to it that gave him what his momma would have called the willies.
Going through the door, however, was unremarkable. As he and Vic stepped into it, it was just gone, but when he
looked behind, it was still there, still closed and presumably locked.
The room was empty. No, not quite. Rakishi was sitting in one of the leather chairs. Danny's mouth dropped.
Jeremy's voice suddenly came to him: You shouldn't take it personally. Only blowfish take it personally.
He blinked, and it was Jeremy sitting there, chopsticks in one hand, a white carton in the other.
He sneaked a quick glance at Vic. "What do you see?" he whispered.
She gave his hand a squeeze. "It's okay, it's just the guy who paid me to do this job."
"Jeremy paid you to do this? Or Rakishi?"
She looked at him and he saw real fear in her for the first time. "You see Jeremy and Rakishi?"
"And you see your buyer." Pause. "What do you see now?"
"You look. I'm afraid to."
Danny forced himself to turn his head. Now there was nothing but a strange pucker in the air, as if the room were
only an image on a touch-screen that was being twisted from inside. "I'm not sure what to do here. Maybe we should
just run like hell."
His arm vibrated suddenly. He lifted his hand and looked at it.
"What?"
"I think I've got a call coming in."
"At least it doesn't play one of those really annoying Vivaldi passages."
Danny looked at Vic again; she stared back. They were both on the thin edge of hysteria, he realized.
"I think it's-they're-trying to communicate. It's intelligent-at least, intelligent enough to follow us out if it wants to
leave. If it wants to go with us, it will." He gave a short, wild laugh. "Listen to me, I'm theorizing about something and I
don't even know what it is!"
He pulled Vic to him roughly and held on tight while he concentrated on his arm again. This time the flash
happened almost instantly, without his having even to straighten it out.
Right away, he knew they were substantial again-the carpet almost felt as if it were pressing against his shoes, and
he was conscious of a processed-air smell in the room. Vic pushed away from him, shaking her head.
"Thank you."
For a moment, Danny thought Vic had spoken. Then he realized it was one of the four little girls standing in front of
him. They were about nine years old, and Danny saw a new detail he had somehow missed when he'd first seen them
on Vic's video screen.
All four had a small stump with four small fingers where the right arm should have been.
Vic touched his shoulder and he jumped.
"Sorry," she said. "I think we're both seeing the four girls now."
"They only have one arm," Danny said. She nodded and he felt himself relax.
"Oh, Jesus!" Vic yelled suddenly and Danny almost jumped out of his skin.
"What?" he screamed at her before he could think better of it.
For answer, she showed him her watch. The time was 11:48. His jaw dropped.
"Quantum," she said. "Where and when get slippery. When we stopped taking up space, we took up more time
instead."
Danny felt himself start to tremble. He looked at the girls, who were watching calmly as the two of them went to
pieces. "Do you want to leave?" he asked them.
They stepped forward suddenly and grabbed his new arm. The communication was instantaneous, lasting forever
and barely a moment, and he understood all of it only for as long as it was occurring. When it was done, he was left
only with scraps and parts of images. But it was enough. He understood that he wasn't seeing four nine-year-old girls,
or anyone else he or Vic knew or didn't know. He didn't understand exactly what kind of life-form it was any more than
a hive mind would have understood the concept of individuals, but he did know that it was immature and maimed or
damaged in some way, and would remain so as long as it was trapped here.
"Come on," he said, and almost tried to walk through the door before he remembered.