"James Patrick Kelly - Undone" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kelly James Patrick)

"Possible," said the ship.
Madadecided that she was done with NuevoLA, too. She would have been perversely comforted to have found her enemies in power somewhere. It would
have given her an easyway to calculate her duty. However,Madawas quite certain that what this mystery meant was that two thousand millennia had conquered
both the revolution and the Utopians and that she and her sibling batch had been designed in vain.
Still, she had nothing better to do with eternity than to try to find out what had become of her species.


a never-ending vacation
The Atlantic Oceanwasnow larger than the Pacific. The Mediterranean Sea had been squeezed out of existence by the collision of Africa, Europe and Asia. North
America floated free of South America and was nudging Siberia. Australia was drifting toward the equator.
The population of earth was about what it had been in the fifteenth century CE, according to the ship. Half a billion people lived on the home world and, as far
asMada could see, none of them had anything important to do. The means of production and distribution, of energy-generation and waste disposal were in the
control of Dependent Intelligences like the ship. Despite repeated scans, the ship could detect no sign that any independent sentience was overseeing the system.
Therewere but a handful of cities, none larger than a quarter ofa million inhabitants. All were scrubbed clean and kept scrupulously ordered by the DIs; they
reminded Madaof databases populated with people instead of information. The majority of the population spent their bucolic lives in pretty hamlets and quaint
towns overlooking lakes or oceans or mountains.
Humanity had booked a never-ending vacation.
"The brain clans could be controlling the DIs," said Mada. "That would make sense."
"Doubtful," said the ship. "Independent sentients create a signature disturbance in the sixth dimension."
"Could there be some secret dictator among the humans, a hidden oligarchy?"
"I see no evidence that anyone is in charge.Doyou?"
She shook her head. "Did they choose to live in a museum," she said, "or were they condemned to it? It’s obvious there’s no First Right here; these people
have only the illusion of individuality. Andno Second Right either. Those bodies are as plain as uniforms – they’re still slaves to their biology."
"There’s no disease," said the ship. "They seem to be functionally immortal."
"That’s not saying very much, is it?" Mada sniffed. "Maybe this is some scheme to start human civilization over again. Or maybe they’re like seeds, stored
here until someone comes along to plant them." She waved all the screens off. "I want to go down for a closer look.
Whatdo I need to pass?"
"Clothes, for one thing." The ship displayed a selection of current styles on its screen. They were extravagantly varied, from ballooning pastel tents to
skin-tight sheaths of luminescent metal, to feathered camouflage to jumpsuits made of what looked like dried mud. "Fashion design is one of their principal
past-times," said the ship. "In addition, you’ll probably want genitalia and the usual secondary sexual characteristics."
It took her the better part ofaday to flow ovaries, fallopian tubes, a uterus, cervix, and vulva and to rearrange her vagina. All these unnecessary organs made her
feel bloated. She saw breasts asa waste of tissue; she made hers as small as the ship thought acceptable. She argued with it about the several substantial patches of
hair it claimed she needed. Clearly, grooming them would require constant attention. She didn’t mind taming her claws into fingernails but she hated giving up her
whiskers. Without them, the air was practically invisible. At first hernew vulva tickled when she walked, but she got used to it.
The ship entered earth’s atmosphere at night and landed in what had once been Saskatchewan, Canada. It dumped most of its mass into the empty dimensions
and flowed itself into baggy black pants, a moss-colored boat neck top anda pair of brown, gripall loafers. It was able to conceal its complete sensorium in a canvas
belt.
It was 9:14 in the morning on June 23, 19,834,004 CEwhenMada strolled into the village of Harmonious Struggle.


the devil's apple
Harmonious Struggle consisted of five clothing shops, six restaurants, three jewelers, eight art galleries, a musical instrument maker,a crafts workshop, a weaver, a
potter, a woodworking shop, two candle stores, four theaters with capacities ranging from twenty to three hundred and an enormous sporting goods store attached
to a miniature domed stadium. There looked to be apartments over most of these establishments; many had views of nearby Rabbit Lake.
Three of the restaurants—Hassam’s Palace of Plenty, The Devil’s Apple and Laurel’s – were practically jostling each other for position on Sonnet Street,
which ran down to the lake. Lounging just outside of eachwere waiters eyeing handheld screens. They sprang up as onewhenMadahappened around the corner.
"Good day, Madame.Have you eaten?"
"Well met, fair stranger. Come break bread with us."
"All natural foods, friend! Lightly cooked, humbly served."
Madaveered into the middle of the street to study the situation as the waiters called to her. ~So I can choose whichever I want?~ she subvocalized to the ship.