Аннотация
Michael Swanwick
Ancient Engines
"Planning to live forever, Tiktok?"
The words cut through the bar's chatter and gab and silenced them. The silence reached out to touch infinity and then, "I believe you're talking to me?" a mech said.
The drunk laughed. "Ain't nobody else here sticking needles in his face, is there?"
The old man saw it all. He lightly touched the hand of the young woman sitting with him and said, "Watch."
Carefully the mech set down his syringe alongside a bottle of liquid collagen on a square of velvet cloth. He disconnected himself from the recharger, laying the jack beside the syringe. When he looked up again, his face was still and hard. He looked like a young lion.
The drunk grinned sneeringly.
The bar was located just around the corner from the local stepping stage. It was a quiet retreat from the aggravations of the street, all brass and mirrors and wood paneling, as cozy and snug as the inside of a walnut. Ligh...
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