Kowal, Mary Robinette / Коваль, Мэри Робинетт - Собрание сочинений (52 произведения) [2006-2022, fb2/epub, ENG]

Ghost Talkers 2016, epub (retail), ISBN: 978-1-4668-6073-5, Tor The Spare Man 2022, epub (retail), ISBN: 978-1-250-82916-0, Tor

Word Puppets 2015, epub (retail), ISBN: 978-1-60701-466-9, Prime Books

Portrait of Ari 2006, epub, Feedbooks Cerbo en Vitra ujo 2006, epub, Feedbooks Death Comes But Twice 2007, epub, Feedbooks This Little Pig 2007, epub, Feedbooks Locked In 2007, fb2 Tomorrow and Tomorrow 2007, fb2 Jaiden's Weaver 2009, fb2 Prayer at Dark River 2009, fb2 Beyond the Garden Close 2010, fb2 The Bride Replete 2010, fb2 Ring Road 2010, fb2 Water to Wine 2011, fb2 Kiss Me Twice 2011, fb2 Goodhouse Keeping 2011, fb2 A Fire in the Heavens 2014, fb2 Water Over the Dam 2014, fb2 Doctor Faustus 2015, fb2 A Dichotomy of Paradigms 2015, fb2 Forest of Memory 2016, epub (retail), ISBN: 978-0-7653-8389-1, Tor.com The Worshipful Society of Glovers 2017, fb2 Sound and Fury 2018, fb2

With one hand, Rava adjusted the VR interface glasses where they bit into the bridge of her nose, while she kept her other hand buried in Cordelia’s innards. There was scant room to get the flexible shaft of a mono-lens and her hand through the access hatch in the AI’s chassis. From the next compartment, drums and laughter bled through the plastic walls of the ship indicating her sister’s conception party was still in full swing. With only a single camera attached, the interface glasses didn’t give Rava depth perception as she struggled to replug the transmitter cable. The chassis had not been designed to need repair. At all. It had been designed to last hundreds of years without an upgrade. If Rava couldn’t get the cable plugged in and working, Cordelia wouldn’t be able to download backups of herself to her long-term memory. She couldn’t store more than a week at a time in active memory. It would be the same as a slow death sentence. The square head of the cable slipped out of Rava’s fingers. Again. “Monkey!” She slammed her heel against the ship’s floor in frustration. “If you can’t do it, let someone else try.” Her older brother, Ludoviko, had insisted on following her out of the party as if he could help. “You know, this would go a lot faster if you weren’t breathing down my neck.” “You know, you wouldn’t be doing this at all if you hadn’t dropped her.” Rava resisted the urge to pull the mono-lens out of the jack in her glasses and glare at him. He might have gotten better marks in school, but she was the AI’s wrangler. “Why don’t you go back to the party and see if you can learn something about fertility.” She lifted the cable head and tried one more time. . . .

March 3, 1952—(AP)—The National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics successfully put its third satellite into orbit, this one with the capability of sending radio signals down to Earth and taking measurements of the radiation in space. The president denies that the satellite has any military purpose and says that its mission is one of scientific exploration.

Do you remember where you were when the Meteor hit? I’ve never understood why people phrase it as a question, because of course you remember. I was in the mountains with Nathaniel. He had inherited this cabin from his father and we used to go up there for stargazing. By which I mean: sex. Oh, don’t pretend that you’re shocked. Nathaniel and I were a healthy young married couple, so most of the stars I saw were painted across the inside of my eyelids. If I had known how long the stars were going to be hidden, I would have spent a lot more time outside with the telescope. We were lying in the bed with the covers in a tangled mess around us. The morning light filtered through silver snowfall and did nothing to warm the room. We’d been awake for hours, but hadn’t gotten out of bed yet for obvious reasons. Nathaniel had his leg thrown over me and was snuggled up against my side, tracing a finger along my collarbone in time with the music on our little battery-powered transistor radio. I stretched under his ministrations and patted his shoulder. “Well, well … my very own ‘Sixty Minute Man. ’” He snorted, his warm breath tickling my neck. “Does that mean I get another fifteen minutes of kissing?” “If you start a fire.” “I thought I already did.” But he rolled up onto his elbow and got out of bed. We were taking a much needed break after a long push to prepare for the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics’s launch. If I hadn’t also been at NACA doing computations, I wouldn’t have seen Nathaniel awake anytime during the past two months. I pulled the covers up over myself and turned on my side to watch him. He was lean, and only his time in the Army during World War II kept him from being scrawny. I loved watching the muscles play under his skin as he pulled wood off the pile under the big picture window. The snow framed him beautifully, its silver light just catching in the strands of his blond hair. And then the world outside lit up. . . .

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