"John Varley - The Ophiuchi Hotline" - читать интересную книгу автора (Varley John)

On the other hand, she felt reasonably calm now. All hope was gone. Could she meet her death now,
by her own hand, in private? Was it better to go that way?
It seemed to her that it was. She told herself that three times in succession and reached for the knife.
She drew it over her wrist. Shuddered, and felt her heart pound. She opened her eyes and looked
down and there wasn't even a red line. She was sure she had been bearing down. Something trickled
over her cheek. Alarmed, she brushed it away.
She sat in her chair beside the small table and gritted her teeth. She leaned over the table and rested

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The Ophiuchi Hotline by John Varley

her forearm on the surface. She put the knife blade to the soft part, looked at it, looked away, dragged
her eyes back and felt them drying out as she refused to blink.
There was a red trickle of blood.
"Put the knife down, Lilo."
She jumped, and dithered with the bloody knife in her hand, blushing furiously. Trying to hide it in
the cushions of the chair, she turned to see who had entered the room behind her.
"Is it serious?" he asked, walking toward her.
She looked at it. Just a small cut, the bleeding almost stopped already. He tossed her a cloth, which
she used to dab at the blood on her hands. Taking a seat a few meters from her, he waited until she
had cleaned herself.
"There's someone I'd like you to meet," he said, and gestured toward the cell door. It opened, and her
blue-uniformed male guard entered, followed by a nude woman. She was tall, staggered slightly as
she walked, and looked drugged. Her brown hair was plastered over her shoulders in ropes and nets;
she dripped a thick, syrupy liquid from her hands and nose and chin. Her eyes met Lilo's for a
moment, without comprehension, then she bumped into a chair and fell over. The guard helped her to
her feet and half-carried her to the bathroom. A woman, also dressed in blue, entered the cell, and
closed the door. She followed the other two. There was the sound of water running.
Lilo managed to look away. The woman's face had been terribly familiar. It was her own face.


Gold. Everything was yellow-gold. I opened my eyes underwater and knew that I was not breathing.
For some reason, it didn't bother me. I sat up and felt thick liquid roll sluggishly from my body.
I choked, tried to cough, and a great amount of fluid came out of my throat. For a moment I couldn't
cope with it. I was drowning. But someone was slapping me on the back and then I was gasping.
Being born is not easy.


Her eyes wouldn't focus. Someone was holding something out to her and all she could see was the
end of an arm holding the object. It was a cup. She recoiled, but it followed her. She took it, and
drank deeply.
She was sitting in a glass tank, wheat-colored liquid up to her waist. Wires trailed from her body,
which still twitched from time to time under the influence of the muscle-tone program, winding down
now after three months of enforced exercise.
Disorientation. She couldn't string two thoughts together. The tank should have meant something to
her, but it didn't.


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The Ophiuchi Hotline by John Varley