"James Tiptree Jr. - Up the Walls of the World" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tiptree James Jr)

Tivonel stretches luxuriously, savoring life. Her strong, graceful jetter's
body balances effortlessly oh the howling wind-rush, which to her is a
peaceful wild meadow. She is thirty miles above the surface of the world of
Tyree, which none of her race has ever seen.
Around her corporeal body the aura of her life-energy field flares out
unselfconsciously, radiating happiness. It's been a great year; her mission
to the upper Wild was such a success.
And it's time now for the treat she has been promising herself: before
returning to Deep she will go visit Giadoc at the High Hearers' Post
nearby.
Giadoc. How beautiful, how strange he was! What will he be like now?
Will he remember her? Memories of their mating send an involuntary
sexual bias rippling through her life-field. Oh, no! Hastily she damps
herself. Did anyone notice? She scans around, detects no flicker of
laughter.
Really, Tivonel scolds herself, I have to mend my manners before I get
down among the crowds in Deep. Up here you forget field-discipline.
Father would be ashamed to see me forgetting ahum,
mind-privacy-smoothness..
 She forgets it again immediately in her enjoyment.
It's such a lovely wild morning. The setting Sound is sliding behind
Tyree's thick upper atmosphere, fading to a violet moan. As it fades comes
the silence which to Tivonel is day, broken only by the quiet white tweet of
the Station's beacon. Above her in the high Wild she already hears the
flickering colorful melody that is the rich life of Tyree's winds. And faintly
chiming through from the far sky she can catch the first sparks of the
Companions of the Day. Tivonel knows what the Companions really are, of
course: the voices of Sounds like her own, only unimaginably far away. But
she likes the old poetic name.
It's going to be a fine long day too, she thinks. High Station is so near
Tyree's far pole that the Sound barely rises above the horizon at this time
of year. At the pole itself, where Giadoc and the Hearers are, it won't rise
at all, it'll be endless silent day. Vastly content, Tivonel scans down past
the station at the dark layers below. They are almost empty of life. From
very far down and away she can make out a tiny signal on the life-bands;
that must be the emanation of the far, massed lives in Deep. Where's the
floater? Ah—there! A nearby pulse of life, strengthening fast. The station
team is jetting down to help; moments later Tivonel catches the faint
yellow hooting of its whistle. Time for the males to leave.
The big males are grouped by the woven station rafts, their mantles
murmuring deep ruby red. Automatically, Tivonel's mind-field veers
toward them. They were her companions in the years' adventure, she has
monitored and helped them for so long. But of course they don't notice her
now that they are Fathers. Safe in their pouches are the proud fruits of
their mission, the children rescued from the Wild. The little ones were
frightened by their first taste of relatively quiet air here; Tivonel can
detect an occasional green squeal of fear from under the edges of the
males' mantles. The Father's huge life-fields furl closer, calming the small
wild minds. At a respectful distance hovers the Station staff, trying not to
show unseemly curiosity.