"Mona.Lisa.Overdrive" - читать интересную книгу автора (3-Mona Lisa OVerdrive)

But her father didn't answer. She bowed and left his study, still
wearing her mother's smile.


The ghost woke to Kumiko's touch as they began their descent into
Heathrow. The fifty-first generation of Maas-Neotek biochips conjured up
an indistinct figure on the seat beside her, a boy out of some faded
hunting print, legs crossed casually in tan breeches and riding boots.
Hullo, the ghost said.


Kumiko blinked, opened her hand. The boy flickered and was gone. She
looked down at the smooth little unit in her palm and slowly closed her
fingers.


'Lo again, he said. Name's Colin. Yours?


She stared. His eyes were bright green smoke, his high forehead pale and
smooth under an unruly dark forelock. She could see the seats across the
aisle through the glint of his teeth. If it's a bit too spectral for
you, he said, with a grin, we can up the rez. . . . And he was there
for an instant, uncomfortably sharp and real, the nap on the lapels of
his dark coat vibrating with hallucinatory clarity. Runs the battery
down, though, he said, and faded to his prior state. Didn't get your
name. The grin again.


You aren't real, she said sternly.


He shrugged. Needn't speak out loud, miss. Fellow passengers might
think you a bit odd, if you take my meaning. Subvocal's the way. I pick
it all up through the skin. . . . He uncrossed his legs and stretched,
hands clasped behind his head. Seatbelt, miss. I needn't buckle up
myself, of course, being, as you've pointed out, unreal.


Kumiko frowned and tossed the unit into the ghost's lap. He vanished.
She fastened her seatbelt, glanced at the thing, hesitated, then picked
it up again.


First time in London, then? he asked, swirling in from the periphery
of her vision. She nodded in spite of herself. You don't mind flying?
Doesn't frighten you?