"Kristine Kathryn Rusch - Millennium Babies" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rusch Kristine Kathryn)

MILLENNIUM BABIES
by KRISTINE KATHRYN RUSCH


First published in Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine, January 2000.



Two weeks into the second semester, she got the message. It had been sent to her house system, and was coded to
her real name, Brooke Delacroix, not Brooke Cross, the name she had used since she was eighteen. At first she didn't
want to open it, thinking it might be another legal conundrum from her mother, so she let the house monitor in the
kitchen blink while she prepared dinner.
She made a hearty dinner, and poured herself a glass of rosé before settling down in front of the living room
fireplace. The fireplace was the reason she'd bought this house. She had fallen in love with the idea that she could sit
on cold winter nights under a pile of blankets, a real fire burning nearby, and read the ancient paperbacks she found in
Madison's antique stores. She read a lot of current work on her e-book, especially research for the classes she taught
at the university, but she loved to read novels in their paper form, careful not to tear the brittle pages, feeling the
weight of bound paper in her hands.
She had added bookshelves to the house's dining room for her paper novels, and she had made a few other
improvements as well. But she tried to keep the house's character. It was a hundred and fifty years old, built when this
part of Wisconsin had been nothing but family farms. The farmland was gone now, divided into five acre plots, but the
privacy remained. She loved being out here, in the country, more than anything else. Even though the university
provided her job, the house was her world.
The novel she held was a thin volume, and a favorite -- The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald -- but on this night,
the book didn't hold her interest. Finally she gave up. If she didn't hear the damn message, she would be haunted by
her mother all night.
Brooke left the glass of wine and the book on the end table, her blankets curled at the edge of the couch, and made
her way back to the kitchen. She could have had House play an audio-only version of the message in the living room,
but she wanted to see her mother's face, to know how serious it was this time.
The monitor was on the west wall beside the microwave. The previous owners -- a charming elderly couple -- had
kept a small television in that spot. On nights like this, Brooke thought the monitor was no improvement.
She stood in front of it, arms crossed, sighed, and said, "House, play message."
The blinking icon disappeared from the screen. A digital voice she did not recognize said, "This message is keyed
for Brooke Delacroix only. It will not be played without certification that no one else is in the room."
She stood. If this was from her mother, her tactics had changed. This sounded official. Brooke made sure she was
visible to the built-in camera.
"I'm Brooke," she said, "and I'm alone."
"You're willing to certify this?" the strange voice asked her.
"Yes," she said.
"Stand by for message."
The screen turned black. She rubbed her hands together. Goosebumps were crawling across her skin. Who would
send her an official message?
"This is coded for Brooke Delacroix," a new digital voice said. "Personal identification number..."
As the voice rattled off the number, she clenched her fist. Maybe something had happened to her mother. Brooke
was, after all, the only next of kin.
"This is Brooke Delacroix," she said. "How many more security protocols do we have here?"
"Five," House said.
She felt her shoulders relax as she heard the familiar voice.
"Go around them. I don't have the time."
"All right," House said. "Stand by."