Грань будущего

           Shechoseaspotbesidemeandstartedherisopush-up.Icouldfeeltheheatcomingoffherbodythroughthechillyairbetweenus.

           Ididn’tmove.Ritadidn’tmove.Thesunhunghighinthesky,showeringitsraysoverus,slowlyroastingourskin.Adropofsweatformedinmyarmpit,thentraceditswayslowlytotheground.SweathadstartedtobeadonRita’sskintoo.Fuck!IfeltlikeachickencrammedintothesameovenastheChristmasturkey.

           Rita’slipsmadethesubtlestofmovements.AlowvoiceonlyIcouldhear.

           "DoIhavesomethingonmyface?"

           "What?"

           "You’vebeenstaringatmeforawhilenow."

           "Me?No."

           "Ithoughtmaybetherewasalaserbeadonmyforehead."

           "Sorry.Therewasn’t-it’snothing."

           "Oh.Allright."

           "Shit-for-brainsKiriya!You’reslipping!"thelieutenantbarked.Iquicklyextendedmyarmbackintoposition.Besideme,RitaVrataski,withthedisinterestedexpressionofsomeonewho’dneverhadaneedforhumancontactherentirelife,continuedherisopush-up.

           PTendedlessthananhourlater.Thegeneral,thetasteofbileinhismouthforgotten,returnedtothebarrackswithoutfurtherinstructions.The17thCompanyhadspentaproductivepre-battleafternoon.

           Ithadn’tplayedoutthewayIrememberedit.Inmydream,InevermadeeyecontactwithRita,andshehadn’tjoinedinthePT.MaybeIwasreadingtoomuchintothings,butI’dsayshediditjusttopissthegeneraloff