Нейромант

           TherooftopmeadowoftheIntercontinentalwasstirringashecrossedit,anearlybreakfastcrowdintentoncoffeeandcroissantsbeneaththestripedumbrellas.

           Hestillhadhisanger.Thatwaslikebeingrolledinsomealleyandwakingtodiscoveryourwalletstillinyourpocket,untouched.Hewarmedhimselfwithit,unabletogiveitanameoranobject.

           Herodetheelevatordowntohislevel,fumblinginhispocketfortheFreesidecreditchipthatservedashiskey.Sleepwasbecomingreal,wassomethinghemightdo.Toliedownonthesand-coloredtemperfoamandfindtheblanknessagain.

           Theywerewaitingthere,thethreeofthem,theirperfectwhitesportsclothesandstenciledtanssettingoffthehandwovenorganicchicofthefurniture.Thegirlsatonawickersofa,anautomaticpistolbesideherontheleaf-patternedprintofthecushion.

           `Turing,’shesaid.`Youareunderarrest.’