"Charles Stross - Duat" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stross Charles)

Oshi did not like the Boss. And she was quite sure the feeling was mutual.

"Greetings, my dear!" He -- she reminded herself: no human, this -- sprawled across the
tall-backed throne as if it was an armchair in some monstrous living room. He smiled and
nodded in her direction, three massive chins jiggling in ponderous sympathy. Small, piggy
eyes twinkled with alarming bonhomie. "And how are we feeling today?"

"You called." She stopped short of the dais, anchoring herself to the floor by her toes.
"Something the matter?"

"Not exactly."

The Boss smiled again, in imitation of reassurance. How much of it is really in that thing?
Oshi wondered: and how much exists entirely in the Dreamtime? (The body was nothing
more than a biological robot.) "Why am I here?" she asked, bluntly.

"Questions, questions." The Boss shook his great head, heavier with its fatty jowls than
Oshi's entire body. "I trust you are fully recovered?"

"Fully recovered," Oshi echoed. She blinked, not trusting herself to explore the
implications of the question: "you could say that. Two weeks in the tank and a couple of
days in deep interface, learning how to use my new eyes ... that's fine." She drew a deep
breath, swallowing the next sentence. I'm fully recovered. Apart from the dreams.

"How charming!" The Boss leaned forward, confidingly. "You know I consider your
welfare to be important? I worry about you, my dear. If you are uncomfortable, please feel
free to confide in me. You can rely on my discretion."

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2: In the Duat



I see. She stared at the Boss intently. Revulsion shuddered through her as she saw his
smile. Friendly indulgence or monstrous cynicism? "Thanks. I can't tell you what it means
to me to know that. Really, it means a lot. But. I'm not, too --" She stopped, uncertain.
Uncertainty was a bad idea where the Boss was concerned, a tiny voice screamed in the
back of her mind.

"Yes?" asked the Boss.

"I don't understand why," she said carefully. Licking dry lips, choosing words like
footsteps through a minefield: "what we're doing in this system? Rubbing out a monster,
fine. A good and principled action. But isn't it ... tangential?"

"Tangential?" He raised one thunderous eyebrow.

"To our mission, as I understand it. Isn't that --"