"Rudy Rucker - The Man Who Ate Himself" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rucker Rudy)

I took my calculator out. I'd stored the master program last week. All I had to do was enter tomorrow's
date, and the machine gave me the optimum launch time. "One thirteen" I replied, "a.m. Where's your
console?"

"Inside." We followed Evangeline into the dark house. I felt better being there now that Marston was out
of the freezer. Evangeline opened a rolltop desk in the living room to reveal the console. She punched
0113 and switched on the automatic sequencing. That was all there was to it. We had a little over an
hour to kill. I got myself another bourbon. Harry and Evangeline stuck to soda.

Looking out the window at the rocket-tip protruding from the ground fifty meters away, something
occurred to me. "That's kind of close, you know. The exhaust is liable to set the house on fire."

"Don't worry," Evangeline sang back. "The house is mostly titaniplast. Van had a lot of enemies."

That was a good lead-in for one of Harry's remarks, but he passed the opportunity up. He just leaned
back in one of Marston's leather chairs, sipping soda and staring at Evangeline. She didn't look back, but
you could tell she felt him staring. She kept finding reasons to stand up and lean over, with her prettiest
feature aimed right at him.

When it got down to the last few minutes, we all stood by the window and counted down together. I had
to hand it to Marston. It seemed like a great way to go. Just before blast-off, the android came out with a
magnum of cold champagne. Knowing that Marston must have programmed that into the console
sequencer, we drank long and deep with a clear conscience. And at one thirteen the big bird lifted off.
Marston's lawn and garden were burned to a crisp, but inside his titaniplast house we didn't feel a thing.
We stared upward until the tiny flame was lost in the stars.

I must have had most of the champagne, because I don't remember going to bed. All night I had
whirlybed dreams. There was some trivial sequence of actions which I kept having to do — each
completion was only a new beginning. The task had something to do with the scratches on Marston's
capsule. They were sort of there, yet not there ... and it was up to me to make them real. But I couldn't
read them until I'd written them, and I couldn't write them till I'd read them.

Finally I managed to wake up. Dawn. The house was quiet. I seemed to be in a guest room. On the other
side of the room was an unmade bed.
Where was Harry? Just as I stood up, he came padding down the hall. He had a funny expression.
"Let's go" he said shortly.

"OK. But where...."

"Never mind. Let's get out of here. Are you sober enough to drive?"

"Sure."

We went down and got in the car. Harry said I should just drive up the slope to the gate and honk. I did,
and it swung open. Harry leaned out the car window, staring back at the house. Perhaps something
moved at one of the windows. "I love her," he said, finally pulling himself back in.

"What happened last night? Don't tell me that she let you...."

Harry was close to tears. "She had a mind, Fletch. A body like that, and she'd even heard of my papers!