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- Уильям Гибсон
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There
were
cigarettes
in
the
gift
shop
,
but
he
didn
’
t
relish
talking
with
Armitage
or
Riviera
.
He
left
the
lobby
and
located
a
vending
console
in
a
narrow
alcove
,
at
the
end
of
a
rank
of
pay
phones
.
He
fumbled
through
a
pocketful
of
lirasi
,
slotting
the
small
dull
alloy
coins
one
after
another
,
vaguely
amused
by
the
anachronism
of
the
process
.
The
phone
nearest
him
rang
.
Automatically
,
he
picked
it
up
.
'
Yeah
?
’
Faint
harmonics
,
tiny
inaudible
voices
rattling
across
some
orbital
link
,
and
then
a
sound
like
wind
.
'
Hello
,
Case
.
’
A
fifty
-
lirasi
coin
fell
from
his
hand
,
bounced
,
and
rolled
out
of
sight
across
Hilton
carpeting
.
'
Wintermute
,
Case
.
It
’
s
time
we
talk
.
’
It
was
a
chip
voice
.
'
Don
’
t
you
want
to
talk
,
Case
?
’
