Нейромант

           Butnowhenoticedthelittlesigil,thesizeofasmallcoin,wovenintothelowerleftcornerofthead’sfabricoflight:T-A.

           Hewalkedbacktotheloft,lostinmemoriesoftheFlatline.He’dspentmostofhisnineteenthsummerintheGentlemanLoser,nursingexpensivebeersandwatchingthecowboys.He’dnevertouchedadeck,then,butheknewwhathewanted.TherewereatleasttwentyotherhopefulsghostingtheLoser,thatsummer,eachonebentonworkingjoeboyforsomecowboy.Nootherwaytolearn.

           They’dallheardofPauley,theredneckjockeyfromthe’Lantafringes,who’dsurvivedbraindeathbehindblackice.Thegrapevine-slender,streetlevel,andtheonlyonegoing-hadlittletosayaboutPauley,otherthanthathe’ddonetheimpossible.`Itwasbig,’anotherwould-betoldCase,forthepriceofabeer,`butwhoknowswhat?IhearmaybeaBrazilianpayrollnet.Anyway,themanwasdead,flatdownbraindeath.’Casestaredacrossthecrowdedbaratathicksetmaninshirtsleeves,somethingleadenabouttheshadeofhisskin.

           `Boy,’theFlatlinewouldtellhim,monthslaterinMiami,`I’mlikethemhugefuckin’lizards,youknow?Hadthemselftwogoddambrains,oneintheheadan’onebythetailbone,keptthehindlegsmovin’.Hitthatblackstuffandol’tailbrainjus’keptrightonkeepin’on.’

           ThecowboyeliteintheLosershunnedPauleyoutofsomestrangegroupanxiety,almostasuperstition.McCoyPauley,Lazarusofcyberspace...