Нейромант

           ’Shetouchedhisshoulder.`Whathappenedtoyou,backthere,man?Youflatlined.’

           Heshookhishead.`Idunno,yet.Wait.’

           `Okay.Wegetacaborsomething.’ShetookhishandandledhimacrossJulesVerne,pastawindowdisplayingtheseason’sParisfurs.

           `Unreal,’hesaid,lookingupagain.

           `Nah,’sheresponded,assuminghemeantthefurs,`growitonacollagenbase,butit’sminkDNA.What’sitmatter?’

           `It’sjustabigtubeandtheypourthingsthroughit,’Mollysaid.`Tourists,hustlers,anything.Andthere’sfinemeshmoneyscreensworkingeveryminute,makesurethemoneystaysherewhenthepeoplefallbackdownthewell.’

           ArmitagehadbookedthemintoaplacecalledtheIntercontinental,aslopingglass-frontedclifffacethatsliddownintocoldmistandthesoundofrapids.CasewentoutontotheirbalconyandwatchedatriooftannedFrenchteenagersridesimplehangglidersafewmetersabovethespray,trianglesofnyloninbrightprimarycolors.Oneofthemswung,banked,andCasecaughtaflashofcroppeddarkhair,brownbreasts,whiteteethinawidesmile.Theairheresmelledofrunningwaterandflowers.`Yeah,’hesaid,`lottamoney.’

           Sheleanedbesidehimagainsttherailing,herhandslooseandrelaxed.`Yeah.Weweregonnacomehereonce,eitherhereorsomeplaceinEurope.