Нейромант

           ’Theroom’swallswereyellowedwhiteplaster.Itcontainedtwopiecesoffurniture.Onewasaplainwoodenchair,theotheranironbedsteadpaintedwhite.Thepainthadchippedandflaked,revealingtheblackiron.Themattressonthebedwasbare.Stainedtickingwithfadedbrownstripes.Asinglebulbdangledabovethebedonatwistedlengthofblackwire.Casecouldseethethickcoatingofdustonthebulb’suppercurve.Rivieraopenedhiseyes.

           `I’dbeenaloneintheroom,always.’Hesatonthechair,facingthebed.Thebluecoalsstillburnedintheblackfloweronhislapel.`Idon’tknowwhenIfirstbegantodreamofher,’hesaid,`butIdorememberthatatfirstshewasonlyahaze,ashadow.’

           Therewassomethingonthebed.Caseblinked.Gone.

           `Icouldn’tquiteholdher,holdherinmymind.ButIwantedtoholdher,holdherandmore...’Hisvoicecarriedperfectlyinthehushoftherestaurant.Iceclickedagainstthesideofaglass.Someonegiggled.SomeoneelseaskedawhisperedquestioninJapanese.`IdecidedthatifIcouldvisualizesomepartofher,onlyasmallpart,ifIcouldseethatpartperfectly,inthemostperfectdetail...’

           Awoman’shandlayonthemattressnow,palmup,thewhitefingerspale.

           Rivieraleanedforward,pickedupthehand,andbegantostrokeitgently.Thefingersmoved.Rivieraraisedthehandtohismouthandbegantolickthetipsofthefingers.Thenailswerecoatedwithaburgundylacquer.