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- Ричард Морган
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At
first
it
was
uncomfortable
.
As
my
body
temperature
started
to
fall
,
the
air
in
the
transport
grew
hot
and
oppressive
.
It
sank
humidly
into
my
lungs
and
lay
there
,
so
that
every
breath
became
an
effort
.
My
vision
smeared
and
my
mouth
turned
uncomfortably
dry
as
the
fluid
balance
of
my
body
seesawed
.
Movement
,
however
small
,
began
to
seem
like
an
imposition
.
Thought
itself
turned
ponderous
with
effort
.
Then
the
control
stimulants
kicked
in
and
in
seconds
my
head
cleared
from
foggy
to
the
unbearable
brightness
of
sunlight
on
a
knife
.
The
soupy
warmth
of
the
air
receded
as
neural
governors
retuned
my
system
to
cope
with
the
body
temperature
shift
.
Inhaling
became
a
languid
pleasure
,
like
drinking
hot
rum
on
a
cold
night
.
The
cabin
of
the
transport
and
the
people
in
it
were
suddenly
like
a
coded
puzzle
that
I
had
the
solution
for
if
I
could
just
…
I
felt
an
inane
grin
eating
its
way
across
my
features
.
"
Whoooh
,
Kristin
,
this
is
…
good
stuff
.
This
is
better
than
Sharya
.
"
"
Glad
you
like
it
.
"
Ortega
glanced
at
her
watch
.
"
Two
more
minutes
.
You
up
to
it
?
"
"
I
’
m
up
to
.
"
I
pursed
my
lips
and
blew
through
them
.
"
Anything
.
Anything
at
all
.
"
Ortega
tipped
her
head
back
towards
Bautista
,
who
could
presumably
see
the
instrumentation
in
the
cockpit
.
"
Rod
.
How
long
have
we
got
?
"
"
Be
there
in
less
than
forty
minutes
.
"
"
Better
get
him
the
suit
.
"
