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- Ричард Морган
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I
put
out
an
arm
and
lifted
the
little
rectangle
of
card
with
a
machined
precision
that
I
hadn
’
t
noticed
before
.
The
neurachem
was
kicking
in
.
My
hand
delivered
the
card
to
the
same
pocket
as
the
rest
of
the
paperwork
and
I
was
gone
,
crossing
the
reception
and
pushing
open
the
door
without
a
word
.
Ungracious
maybe
,
but
I
didn
’
t
think
anyone
in
that
building
had
earnt
my
gratitude
yet
.
You
’
re
a
lucky
man
,
Kovacs
.
Sure
.
A
hundred
and
eighty
light
years
from
home
,
wearing
another
man
’
s
body
on
a
six
-
week
rental
agreement
.
Freighted
in
to
do
a
job
that
the
local
police
wouldn
’
t
touch
with
a
riot
prod
.
Fail
and
go
back
into
storage
.
I
felt
so
lucky
I
could
have
burst
into
song
as
I
walked
out
the
door
.
The
hall
outside
was
huge
,
and
all
but
deserted
.
It
looked
like
nothing
so
much
as
the
Millsport
rail
terminal
back
home
.
Beneath
a
tilted
roof
of
long
transparent
panels
,
the
fused
glass
paving
of
the
floor
shone
amber
in
the
afternoon
sun
.
A
couple
of
children
were
playing
with
the
automatic
doors
at
the
exit
,
and
there
was
a
solitary
cleaning
robot
sniffing
along
in
the
shade
at
one
wall
.
Nothing
else
moved
.
Marooned
in
the
glow
on
benches
of
old
wood
,
a
scattering
of
humanity
waited
in
silence
for
friends
or
family
to
ride
in
from
their
altered
carbon
exiles
.
Download
Central
.
These
people
wouldn
’
t
recognise
their
loved
ones
in
their
new
sleeves
;
recognition
would
be
left
to
the
home
-
comers
,
and
for
those
who
awaited
them
the
anticipation
of
reunion
would
be
tempered
with
a
cool
dread
at
what
face
and
body
they
might
have
to
learn
to
love
.
Or
maybe
they
were
a
couple
of
generations
down
the
line
,
waiting
for
relatives
who
were
no
more
to
them
now
than
a
vague
childhood
memory
or
a
family
legend
.
I
knew
one
guy
in
the
Corps
,
Murakami
,
who
was
waiting
on
the
release
of
a
great
-
grandfather
put
away
over
a
century
back
.
Was
going
up
to
Newpest
with
a
litre
of
whisky
and
a
pool
cue
for
homecoming
gifts
.
He
’
d
been
brought
up
on
stories
of
his
great
-
grandfather
in
the
Kanagawa
pool
halls
.
The
guy
had
been
put
away
before
Murakami
was
even
born
.
I
spotted
my
reception
committee
as
I
went
down
the
steps
into
the
body
of
the
hall
.
Three
tall
silhouettes
were
gathered
around
one
of
the
benches
,
shifting
restlessly
in
the
slanting
rays
of
sunlight
and
creating
eddies
in
the
dust
motes
that
floated
there
.
A
fourth
figure
sat
on
the
bench
,
arms
folded
and
legs
stretched
out
.
All
four
of
them
were
wearing
reflective
sunglasses
that
at
a
distance
turned
their
faces
into
identical
masks
.
Already
on
course
for
the
door
,
I
made
no
attempt
to
detour
in
their
direction
and
this
must
have
occurred
to
them
only
when
I
was
halfway
across
the
hall
.
Two
of
them
drifted
over
to
intercept
me
with
the
easy
calm
of
big
cats
that
had
been
fed
recently
.
Bulky
and
tough
-
looking
with
neatly
groomed
crimson
mohicans
,
they
arrived
in
my
path
a
couple
of
metres
ahead
,
forcing
me
either
to
stop
in
turn
or
cut
an
abrupt
circle
around
them
.
I
stopped
.
Newly
arrived
and
newly
sleeved
is
the
wrong
state
to
be
in
if
you
plan
to
piss
off
the
local
militia
.
I
tried
on
my
second
smile
of
the
day
.
"
Something
I
can
do
for
you
?
"
The
older
of
the
two
waved
a
badge
negligently
in
my
direction
,
then
put
it
away
as
if
it
might
tarnish
in
the
open
air
.
