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- Уильям Гибсон
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And
in
the
bloodlit
dark
behind
his
eyes
,
silver
phosphenes
boiling
in
from
the
edge
of
space
,
hypnagogic
images
jerking
past
like
film
compiled
from
random
frames
.
Symbols
,
figures
,
faces
,
a
blurred
,
fragmented
mandala
of
visual
information
.
Please
,
he
prayed
,
now
-
-
A
gray
disk
,
the
color
of
Chiba
sky
.
Now
-
-
Disk
beginning
to
rotate
,
faster
,
becoming
a
sphere
of
paler
gray
.
Expanding
-
-
And
flowed
,
flowered
for
him
,
fluid
neon
origami
trick
,
the
unfolding
of
his
distanceless
home
,
his
country
,
transparent
3D
chessboard
extending
to
infinity
.
Inner
eye
opening
to
the
stepped
scarlet
pyramid
of
the
Eastern
Seaboard
Fission
Authority
burning
beyond
the
green
cubes
of
Mitsubishi
Bank
of
America
,
and
high
and
very
far
away
he
saw
the
spiral
arms
of
military
systems
,
forever
beyond
his
reach
.
And
somewhere
he
was
laughing
,
in
a
white
-
painted
loft
,
distant
fingers
caressing
the
deck
,
tears
of
release
streaking
his
face
.
Molly
was
gone
when
he
took
the
trodes
off
,
and
the
loft
was
dark
.
He
checked
the
time
.
He
’
d
been
in
cyberspace
for
five
hours
.
He
carried
the
Ono
-
Sendai
to
one
of
the
new
worktables
and
collapsed
across
the
bedslab
,
pulling
Molly
’
s
black
silk
sleeping
bag
over
his
head
.
The
security
package
taped
to
the
steel
firedoor
bleeped
twice
.
'
Entry
requested
,
’
it
said
.
'
Subject
is
cleared
per
my
program
.
’
