"Ay, and Gomorra by Samuel Delany" - читать интересную книгу автора (Delaney Samuel R)

and down to the square in front of St. Sulpice where Bo tried
to knock me into the fountain.
At which point Kelly noticed what was going on around us,
got an ashcan cover, and ran into the pissoir, banging the
walls. Five guys scooted out; even a big pissoir only holds
four.
A very blond young man put his hand on my arm and
smiled. "Don't you think, Spacer, that you . . . people should
leave?"
I looked at his hand on my blue uniform. "Est-ce que tu es
an frelk?"
His eyebrows rose, then he shook his head. "Une frelk,"
he corrected. "No. I am not. Sadly for me. You look as
though you may once have been a man. But now . . ." He
smiled. "You have nothing for me now. The police." He
nodded across the street where I noticed the gendarmerie for
the first time. "They don't bother us. You are strangers,
though..."
But Muse was already yelling, "Hey, come on! Let's get
out of here, hub?" And left. And went up again.
And came down in Houston:
"God damn!" Muse said. "Gemini Flight Controlyou
mean this is where it all started? Let's get out of here,
pleasel"
So took a bus out through Pasadeaa, then the monoline to
Galveston, and were going to take it down the Gulf, but Lou
found a couple with a pickup truck
"Glad to give you a ride. Spacers. You people up there
on them planets and things, doing all that good work for the
government."
who were going south, them and the baby, so we rode
in the back for two hundred and fifty miles of sun and
wind.
"You think they're frelks?" Lou asked, elbowing me. "I
bet they're frelks. They're just waiting for us to give 'cm the
come-on."
"Cut it out. They're a nice, stupid pair of country kids."
"That don't mean they ain't frelksl"
"You don't trust anybody, do you?"
"No."
And finally a bus again that rattled us through Brownsville
and across the border into Matamoros where we staggered
down the steps into the dust and the scorched evening with
a lot of Mexicans and chickens and Texas Gulf shrimp
fishermenwho smelled worstand we shouted the loudest.
Forty-three whores1 countedhad turned out for the
shrimp fishermen, and by the time we had broken two of
the windows in the bus station they were all laughing. The
shrimp fishermen said they wouldn't buy us no food but
would get us drunk if we wanted, 'cause that was the custom