-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Уильям Гибсон
-
- Нейромант
-
- Стр. 133/285
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
The
temperfoam
of
the
huge
bed
was
tinted
to
resemble
sand
.
There
was
a
lot
of
pale
wood
and
handwoven
fabric
.
'
What
about
you
,
’
he
said
,
'
you
gonna
dye
yourself
brown
?
Don
’
t
exactly
look
like
you
spend
all
your
time
sunbathing
.
’
She
wore
loose
black
silks
and
black
espadrilles
.
'
I
’
m
an
exotic
.
I
got
a
big
straw
hat
for
this
,
too
.
You
,
you
just
wanna
look
like
a
cheap
-
ass
hood
who
’
s
up
for
what
he
can
get
,
so
the
instant
tan
’
s
okay
.
’
Case
regarded
his
pallid
foot
morosely
,
then
looked
at
himself
in
the
mirror
.
'
Christ
.
You
mind
if
I
get
dressed
now
?
’
He
went
to
the
bed
and
began
to
pull
his
jeans
on
.
'
You
sleep
okay
?
You
notice
any
lights
?
’
'
You
were
dreaming
,
’
she
said
.
They
had
breakfast
on
the
roof
of
the
hotel
,
a
kind
of
meadow
,
studded
with
striped
umbrellas
and
what
seemed
to
Case
an
unnatural
number
of
trees
.
He
told
her
about
his
attempt
to
buzz
the
Berne
AI
.
The
whole
question
of
bugging
seemed
to
have
become
academic
.
If
Armitage
were
tapping
them
,
he
’
d
be
doing
it
through
Wintermute
.
'
And
it
was
like
real
?
’
she
asked
,
her
mouth
full
of
cheese
croissant
.
'
Like
simstim
?
’
He
said
it
was
.
'
Real
as
this
,
’
he
added
,
looking
around
.
'
Maybe
more
.
’
The
trees
were
small
,
gnarled
,
impossibly
old
,
the
result
of
genetic
engineering
and
chemical
manipulation
.
Case
would
have
been
hard
pressed
to
distinguish
a
pine
from
an
oak
,
but
a
street
boy
’
s
sense
of
style
told
him
that
these
were
too
cute
,
too
entirely
and
definitively
treelike
.
Between
the
trees
,
on
gentle
and
too
cleverly
irregular
slopes
of
sweet
green
grass
,
the
bright
umbrellas
shaded
the
hotel
’
s
guests
from
the
unfaltering
radiance
of
the
Lado
-
Acheson
sun
.
A
burst
of
French
from
a
nearby
table
caught
his
attention
:
the
golden
children
he
’
d
seen
gliding
above
river
mist
the
evening
before
.
Now
he
saw
that
their
tans
were
uneven
,
a
stencil
effect
produced
by
selective
melanin
boosting
,
multiple
shades
overlapping
in
rectilinear
patterns
,
outlining
and
highlighting
musculature
,
the
girl
’
s
small
hard
breasts
,
one
boy
’
s
wrist
resting
on
the
white
enamel
of
the
table
.
They
looked
to
Case
like
machines
built
for
racing
;
they
deserved
decals
for
their
hairdressers
,
the
designers
of
their
white
cotton
ducks
,
for
the
artisans
who
’
d
crafted
their
leather
sandals
and
simple
jewelry
.
Beyond
them
,
at
another
table
,
three
Japanese
wives
in
Hiroshima
sackcloth
awaited
sarariman
husbands
,
their
oval
faces
covered
with
artificial
bruises
;
it
was
,
he
knew
,
an
extremely
conservative
style
,
one
he
’
d
seldom
seen
in
Chiba
.
