"Joan D. Vinge - Fireship" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vinge Joan D)

Fireship
Joan D. Vinge
First publication in Analog December 1978
Scanned from The Best Science Fiction Novellas of the Year #1 ,
Terry Carr, ed



We’ve had stories of cyborgs for decades in science
fiction, but the subject is so full of possibilities that many
fascinating tales remain to be told—especially when we
consider the ever-more-startling capabilities of
computers. What if a man’s mind were to be linked with a
sophisticated computer of the future? And what if that
man were to become an outlaw?
Joan D. Vinge is one of the emerging stars of the late
1970s (her first story appeared in 1974). She won a Hugo
Award in 1978 for her novelette “Eyes of Amber.”


I really must’ve been drunk. Because boy, was I ever hung over… I
woke up groaning out of a dream that I’d just had my head shrunk,
and couldn’t tell if it’d been a dream or not. I dragged my face up off
the pillow, trying to see the clock on the bedside bar… the clocks,
there were two of ’em. Funny, I only remembered one, last night.
Ohh. Last night —
But what’d finally got me awake wasn’t just the ringing in my
ears: the viewphone was starting into “Starlight Serenade” for
about the tenth time. Finally remembering where I was, sort of, I
crawled back across the bed’s two meters of jelly to the phone on
the other side. I took a look at myself in the mirrored screen. And
then I hit blank screen before I pressed the voice button. “Hello?” I
said. It sounded like “Huh.”
 “Mr. Ring? Are you there? This is the lobby—” She was pretty,
but she had a voice like disaster sirens.
I considered maybe dying, and mumbled something.
She looked relieved. “Visitors to see you, Mr. Ring.”
Confused warnings went off down in my mind: “Are they wearin’
uniforms?” It’s nice to be wanted, but not by the U.S. government.
“No, they’re not, sir.” She blinked at me. “Shall I send them up?”
“Ugh, no—” I waited for my head to fall off; no luck. “Uh, jus’ tell
’em I’ll be down soon.” Give or take a couple of hours. …
“All right. Thank you, Mr. Ring.” The screen went blank, but her
smile stayed behind. I wondered what she did in her spare time. I’d
have to ask her, if I lived long enough. I lay back on the blue satin
sheets, trying to decide whether to sit up or give up.
Sitting up won, and I pushed my feet over the edge of the bed
onto the floor. They came down in a pile of cold, hard slippery
things. I pulled myself up and leaned forward—
“Oh, geez—not again.” The floor around the bed was ankle-deep