"Stephen Kraus - White Walls" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kraus Stephen)

She nodded slightly. Her face was closed, registering nothing. She’d already
learned a little about protecting herself.

“How long has this session been going?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Four or five hours.”

She looked different close up; there was a softness to her face that the camera
missed. Perspiration beaded above her eyes, at the borders of her mask.

“Kirkendahl can get absorbed, lose track. I’ll tell him to ease off.”

“I’m doing fine,” she said coolly.

He looked straight at her, forcing her to look back. “I don’t think so. I don’t
think ‘fine’ is the right word at all.”
 She searched his eyes for a moment, wondering whether to trust him.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.

Her face changed beneath her mask, opened up. “Oh god, yes.”

The offer was consequential enough. He had to cycle through an airlock and a
scrub station to return with a pair of squeeze boxes. Julia drained hers in one long
pull.

“Thank you. Are you in charge or something?”

Jacobson shook his head. “I’m responsible for the science done here. That’s
all.”

“That strange little man . . . he runs this place, then?”

“The director, yes. His name is Blankman, but I think I’m the only one who
calls him that.”

“I met him on my first day. . . .” She shivered. “Can I go back to my room
now?”

“Of course. I’ll escort you.”

He spoke to Kirkendahl while she changed back into her coveralls. The tall
man nodded rapidly a few times, then returned to his displays.

They walked outward three decontamination stages, down a long white
corridor.

“Why isn’t there anything on the walls here?” she asked. “It all looks the
same. I walk and I walk, and I feel like I haven’t moved.”