"S. Andrew Swann - Forests of the Night" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swann S Andrew)

Copyright © 1993 by Steven Swiniarski. All Rights Reserved.
Cover art by Jim Burns. DAW Book Collectors No. 918.
This is for John, Heather, and their kid(s?)
If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book
may have been stolen property and reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the
publisher. In such case neither the author nor the publisher has received any
payment for this "stripped book."
First Printing, July 1993 123456789
DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED
U.S. PAT. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES
—MARCA REGISTRADA
HECHO EN U.S.A.
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to a number of people who left their mark on this manuscript. To Dan
Eloff, who knows he got me writing again, and to R. M. Meluch, who doesn't. To
the members of the Cleveland SF Writer's Workshop, who helped me get the burrs
and toolmarks off this novel. To Stacy Newman, who offered to proof this. To
Anastacia H. Brightfox, for naming one of the characters. And thanks to Amy,
who, if nothing else, helped to give me something to write about.
Tygerl Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand
or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry ?
In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings
dare he aspire ? What the hand, dare seize the fire ?
And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when
thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? And what dread feet?
What the hammer? What the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the
anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp ?
When the stars threw down their spears, And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee ?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand
or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry ?
—WILLIAM BLAKE
CHAPTER 1
"One day, Nugoya, you're going to screw the wrong person." Nohar Rajasthan
raked his claws across the seat of his booth, wishing it was Nugoya's face.
Like the rest of Zero's, the vinyl on the seat was flashy, shiny, and cheap.
The seat shredded.
Nugoya grabbed the collar of the black jacket that was draped over his left
shoulder, shaking his head. He looked human, but only at first glance. A close
examination of the graying Japanese would reveal joints large beyond normal
human proportions and muscles that snaked like steel cable. The light above
the booth glinted off the chrome irises of Nugoya's artificial Japanese eyes.
"I hire you to find my girl. You find me a corpse. A corpse is worthless. I
owe you nothing."
Nohar shouldn't have had the bad sense to let Nugoya hire him. It was becoming
hard to contain his anger. "Expenses, and four days of legwork."
Nohar shouldn't have trusted a frank. Japan had been one of the few countries
to ever defy the U.N. ban on the manipulation of human genetic material. The
INS had tight restrictions on letting human frankensteins into the country,