"Kress, Nancy - Dancing on Air" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kress Nancy)

A little later Caroline says, "I guess it's you and me, then. They set it up that way. I'm stuck with you."
I do not move move my paws. She still smells angry.
"All right, let's try another approach. Disarm the enemy from within. Psychological sabotage. You don't have any idea what I'm talking about, do you? What did they give you, a five-year-old's IQ? Angel..."
I look at Caroline. She says my right name.
"...tell me about Sam's cat."
"What?"
"Sam's cat. You said that first day you came home with me that you smelled a cat on Sam, the day doorman. Do you still smell it? Can you tell what kind of cat it is?"
I am confused. Caroline says nice words. Caroline smells angry. Her back is too straight. Her fur is wrong.
"Is it a male cat or a female cat? Can you tell that?"
"A female cat," I say. I remember the cat smell. My muscles itch.
"Did you want to chase it?"
"I must never chase cats. I must protect Caroline."
Caroline's smell changes. She leans close to my ear.
"But did you _want_ to chase it, Angel? Did you want to get to behave like a dog?"
"I want to protect Caroline."
"Hoo boy. They did a job on you, didn't they, boy?"
The words are too hard. Caroline still smells a little angry. I do not understand.
"It's nothing compared to what they're doing in South America and Europe," she says. Her body shakes.
"Are you hurt?" I say.
Caroline puts a hand on my back. The hand is very soft. She says no words.
* * * *
I am happy. Caroline talks to me. She tells me about dancing. Caroline is a dancer. She jumps and runs in circles. She stands high on her hind legs. People come in cars to watch her. The people are happy when Caroline dances.
We walk outside. I protect Caroline. We go many places. Caroline gives me cake and hot dogs. There are many smells. Sometimes Caroline and I follow the smells. We see many dogs and many cats. The man with the small box comes with us sometimes. John says the man is safe.
"What if I tell Angel you're not 'safe'?" Caroline says to the man. He follows us on a long walk. "What if I order him to tear you limb to limb?" She smells angry again.
"You don't have programming override capacity. The biochip augmenting his bioenhancement is very specific, Ms. Olson. I'm hardwired in."
"I'll bet," Caroline says. "Did anybody ask Angel if he wants this life?"
The man smiles.
We go to Lincoln Center every day. Caroline dances there. She dances in the day. She dances at night. More people watch at night.
John asks me where Caroline and I go. Every day I tell him.
Nobody tries to touch Caroline. I protect her.
"I can't do it," Caroline tells a man on the street corner. The man stands very close to Caroline. I growl soft. "For God's sake, Stan, don't touch me. The dog. And I'm probably being watched."
"Do they care _that_ much?"
"I could blow the whistle on the whole unofficial charade," Caroline says. She smells tired. "No matter what Privitera's delusions are. But then we'd lose our chance, woudn't we?"
"Thanks for the time," the man says, loud. He smiles. He walks away.
Later John says, "Who did Caroline talk to?"
"A man," I say. "He wants the time."
Later Caroline says, "Angel, we're going tonight to see my mother."
4.
Demonstrators dyed the fountain at Lincoln Center blood red.
They marched around the gruesome jets of water, shouting and resisting arrest. I sprinted across the plaza, trying to get there to see which side they were on before the police carted all of them away. Even from this distance I could tell they weren't dancers, not with those thick bodies. The electronic placards dissolved from HOW MANY MUST DIE FROM DENYING EVOLUTION! to FREE MEDICAL RESEARCH FROM GOVERNMENT STRAIGHTJACKETS! to MY BODY BELONGS TO ME! Pro-human bioenhancement, then. A holograph projector, which a cop was shutting down, spewed out a ten-foot high holo of Jane and June Welsh, Siamese twins who had been successfully separated only after German scientists had bioenhanced their bodies to force alterations in major organs. The holo loop showed the attached twins dragging each other around, followed by the successfully separated twins waving gaily. The cop did something and Jane and June disappeared.
"They died," I said to a demonstrator, a slim boy wearing a FREE MY BODY! button. "Ultimately, neither of their hearts could stand the stress of bioenhancement."
He glared at me. "That was their risk to take, wasn't it?"
"Their combined IQ didn't equal your weight. How could they evaluate risk?"
"This is a _revolution_, lady. In any revolution you have casualties that -- " A cop grabbed his arm. The boy took a wild swing at him and the cop pressed his nerve gun to the boy's neck. He dropped peacefully, smiling.
Abruptly more people gathered, some of them wilier than the boy. Demonstrators stood with their hands on their heads, singing slogans. Media robocams zoomed in from the sky; the live crews would be here in minutes. A group of counter-demonstrators formed across the plaza, in front of the Met. I backed away slowly, hands on my head, not singing -- and stopped abruptly halfway across the chaotic plaza.
An old woman in a powerchair was watching the demonstration with the most intense expression I had ever seen. It was as if she were watching a horrifying execution, judging it judiciously as art. Bodyguards flanked the chair. She wore an expensive, pale blue suit and large, perfectly-matched pearls. Her wrinkled, cold face was completely familiar. This was how Caroline Olson would look in forty years, if she refused all cosmetic treatment.
She caught me watching her. Her expression didn't change. It passed over me as if I didn't exist.
I took the chance. "Ms. Olson?"
She didn't deny the name. "Yes?"
"I'm a reporter with _New York Now_, doing an article on the New York City Ballet. I'd like to ask you a few questions about your daughter Caroline, if that's all right."