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

~Inan attention-based economy,~ subbed the ship in reply, ~all they expect from you is an audience.~
Just beyond Hassam’s, the skinny waiter from The Devil’s Apple had a wry, crooked smile. Black hair fell to the padded shoulders of his shirt. He was
wearing boots to the knee and loose rust-colored shorts, but it was the little red cape that decided her.
Asshe walked past her, the waitress from Hassam’s was practically shouting. "Madame, please, their batter is dull!" She waved her handheld at Mada. "Read
the reviews.Who puts shrimp in muffins?"
The waiter at the Devil’s Apple wasnamedOwen.He showed her to one of three tables in the tiny restaurant. At his suggestion, Mada ordered the poached
peaches with white cheese mousse, an asparagus breakfast torte, baked orange walnut French toast and coddled eggs. Owen served the peaches, but it was the chef
andowner, Edris, whoemerged from the kitchen to clear the plate.
"The mousse, madame, you liked it?" she asked, beaming.
"It was good," said Mada.Her smile shrank a size anda half.
"Enough lemon rind, would you say that?"
"Yes. It was very nice." Mada’s reply seemed to dismay Edris even more.Whenshe came out to clear the next course, she blanched at the corner of breakfast
torte that Madahad left uneaten.
"Iknew this." She snatched the plate away. "The pastry wasn’t fluffy enough." She rolled the offending scrap between thumb and forefinger.
Madaraised her hands in protest. "No, no, it was delicious." She could seeOwen shrinking into the far corner of the room.
"Maybe too much colby, not enough gruyere?" Edris snarled. "But you have no comment?"
"I wouldn’t changea thing. It was perfect."
"Madame is kind," she said, her lips barely moving, and retreated.
Amoment later Owen set the steaming plate of French toast before Mada.
"Excuse me." She tugged at his sleeve.
"Something’s wrong?"Heedgedawayfrom her. "You must speak to Edris."
"Everything is fine. I was just wondering if you could tell mehow to get to the local library."
Edris burst out of the kitchen. "What are you doing, beanheaded boy? Youare distracting my patron with absurd chitterchat. Get out, get out of my restaurant
now."
"No really, he..." But Owenwas already out the door and up the street, taking Mada’s appetite with him.
~You’re doing something wrong,~ the ship subbed.
Madalowered her head. ~Iknow that!~
Madapushed the sliver of French toast around the pool of maple syrup for several minutes but could not eat it. "Excuse me," she called, standing up abruptly.
"Edris?"
Edris shouldered through the kitchen door, carrying a tray with a silver egg cup. She froze when she sawhow it was with the French toast and her only patron.
"This was one of the most delicious meals I have ever eaten." Madabacked toward the door. She wanted nothing to do with eggs, coddled or otherwise.
Edris set the tray in front of Mada’s empty chair. "Madame, the art of the kitchen requires the tongue of the patron," she said icily.
She fumbled for the latch. "Everything was very, very wonderful."


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Mada slunk down Lyric Alley, which ran behind the stadium, trying to understand how exactly she had offended. In this attention-based economy, paying
attention was obviously not enough. There had to be some other cultural protocol she and the ship were missing. What she probably ought to do was go back and
explore the clothes shops, maybe pick upa pot or some candles and see what additional information she could blunder into. But making a fool of herself had never
much appealed to Madaasa learning strategy. She wanted the map,a native guide, – some edge, preferably secret.
~Scanning,~ subbed the ship. ~Somebody is following you. He just ducked behind the privet hedge twelve-point-three meters to the right. It’s the waiter,
Owen.~
"Owen," called Mada, "is that you? I’m sorry I got you in trouble. You’re an excellent waiter."
"I’m not really a waiter." Owenpeeked over the top of the hedge. "I’m a poet."
 She gave him her best smile. "You said you’d take me to the library." For some reason, the smile stayed on her face "Canwedo that now?"
"First listen to some ofmy poetry."
"No," she said firmly. "Owen, I don’t think you’ve been paying attention. I said I would like to go to the library."
"All right then, but I’m not going to have sex with you."
Madawas taken aback. "Really? Why is that?"
"I’m not attracted to women with small breasts." For the first time in her life, Mada felt the stab of outraged hormones. "Come out here and talk to me." There