Нейромант

           `What’shetoldyou,man,Wintermute?HetellyouaboutMarie-France?ShewastheTessierhalf,3Jane’sgeneticmother.AndofthatdeadpuppetofAshpool’s,Iguess.Can’tfigurewhyhe’dtellme,downinthatcubicle...lottastuff...WhyhehastocomeonliketheFinnorsomebody,hetoldmethat.It’snotjustamask,it’slikeheusesrealprofilesasvalves,gearshimselfdowntocommunicatewithus.Calleditatemplate.Modelofpersonality.’Shedrewherfletcherandlimpedawaydownthecorridor.

           Thebaresteelandscabrousepoxyendedabruptly,replacedbywhatCaseatfirsttooktobearoughtunnelblastedfromsolidrock.Mollyexamineditsedgeandhesawthatinfactthesteelwassheathedwithpanelsofsomethingthatlookedandfeltlikecoldstone.Shekneltandtouchedthedarksandspreadacrosstheflooroftheimitationtunnel.Itfeltlikesand,coolanddry,butwhenshedrewherfingerthroughit,itclosedlikeafluid,leavingthesurfaceundisturbed.Adozenmetersahead,thetunnelcurved.Harshyellowlightthrewhardshadowsontheseamedpseudo-rockofthewalls.Withastart,Caserealizedthatthegravityherewasnearearthnormal,whichmeantthatshe’dhadtodescendagain,aftertheclimb.Hewasthoroughlylostnow;spatialdisorientationheldapeculiarhorrorforcowboys.

           Butshewasn’tlost,hetoldhimself.

           Somethingscurriedbetweenherlegsandwenttickingacrosstheun-sandofthefloor.AredLEDblinked.TheBraun.