"Роберт Догерти. Зона 51 (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

be reconsidered.
It went back to a lighter sleep, knowing that the decision
to divert power to sensors for an orbit would cost it almost
ten orbits of sleep when the power got lower, but it ac-
cepted that. That was its job.

NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE
T-147 HOURS

The grocery bag
Kelly Reynolds was holding ripped open
as she unlocked
her mailbox and a twelve-pack of Diet
Coke burst open
on impact with the ground, sending cans
everywhere. It
had been that kind of day, she reflected as
she gathered in
the errant cans. She'd spent it interviewing
local bar owners
on Second Avenue for an article she was
writing, and two
of her five appointments had failed to
show.
She stuffed
the mail into the remnants of the bag and
made her way to
her apartment, dropping the entire mess
on the table in
her tiny kitchen. She filled a mug with water
and pushed it
into the microwave, setting the timer, then
leaned back against
the counter, giving herself the two
minutes before
the beeper sounded to relax. She studied
her reflection
in the kitchen window, which looked out
onto a back alley
in Nashville's West End. Kelly was short,
just over five
feet, but big boned. She carried her weight
well thanks to
her morning routine of sit-ups and push-ups,
but the combination
of bulk and lack of height made her
look like a compressed
version of a person who should be
four inches taller.
Her hair was thick and brown, streaked