-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Уильям Гибсон
-
- Нейромант
-
- Стр. 253/285
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Later
,
as
they
lay
together
,
his
hand
between
her
thighs
,
he
remembered
her
on
the
beach
,
the
white
foam
pulling
at
her
ankles
,
and
he
remembered
what
she
had
said
.
'
He
told
you
I
was
coming
,
’
he
said
.
But
she
only
rolled
against
him
,
buttocks
against
his
thighs
,
and
put
her
hand
over
his
,
and
muttered
something
out
of
dream
.
The
music
woke
him
,
and
at
first
it
might
have
been
the
beat
of
his
own
heart
.
He
sat
up
beside
her
,
pulling
his
jacket
over
his
shoulders
in
the
predawn
chill
,
gray
light
from
the
doorway
and
the
fire
long
dead
.
His
vision
crawled
with
ghost
hieroglyphs
,
translucent
lines
of
symbols
arranging
themselves
against
the
neutral
backdrop
of
the
bunker
wall
.
He
looked
at
the
backs
of
his
hands
,
saw
faint
neon
molecules
crawling
beneath
the
skin
,
ordered
by
the
unknowable
code
.
He
raised
his
right
hand
and
moved
it
experimentally
.
It
left
a
faint
,
fading
trail
of
strobed
afterimages
.
The
hair
stood
up
along
his
arms
and
at
the
back
of
his
neck
.
He
crouched
there
with
his
teeth
bared
and
felt
for
the
music
.
The
pulse
faded
,
returned
,
faded
.
.
.
'
What
’
s
wrong
?
’
She
sat
up
,
clawing
hair
from
her
eyes
.
'
Baby
.
.
.
’
'
I
feel
.
.
.
like
a
drug
.
.
.
You
get
that
here
?
’
She
shook
her
head
,
reached
for
him
,
her
hands
on
his
upper
arms
.
'
Linda
,
who
told
you
?
Who
told
you
I
’
d
come
?
Who
?
’
