Готовый перевод Нова Проспект / Nova Prospect: Shotgun Senorita (Цири)

Shotgun Senorita (Ciri)

* * *

Even after spending half her life on the run, Ciri could not complain about her lack of education. Ever since she was a child, she had had to read countless treatises on the art of war, draw magical diagrams from memory, and memorize bestiaries. She'd thought she knew how the world worked - before she'd asked that unfortunate question.

Less than half an hour later, she found herself buried under a pile of unfamiliar concepts. Cyborgs. Half-human half-golems who had traded flesh for carbon fiber (without going into detail, she thought the word was another name for iron) to enhance their natural abilities - the witchers had accomplished the same with mutagens. The Internet, an invisible web allows thoughts, sounds, and pictures to be transmitted instantly over distance.

Magnets, the energy of lightning, the attraction of things, here called gravity - Jennyfer taught Ciri how to control these forces with thought. Here they are available to any peasant who can't even catch a glimpse of a spike in the magical flows.

However, Ciri didn't fully understand how it worked. She asked question after question until Adam started talking about Ohm's Law and Gauss's Theorem. These names were more reminiscent of occult orders than science. Solomon's Key, Gauss's Theorem.

"Trust me, it's as much magic for most people as it is for you. You don't need to know how it works to use it."

Ciri was not satisfied with this state of affairs. There must be something useful from this world. Something she could tell the men of science, something that would make life on the Continent better. People spend years learning these sciences, Adam reassured her.

Magic, as it turned out, was mentioned only in an ironic context, as something for which there was no explanation - and everything had to have an explanation, they thought. But the ways of Destiny are inexplicable - no matter how much she denied the idea, the higher will always have plans for her.

"Tell me more about your gods," she asked, "or what do you believe in?"

Maybe religion will explain why they believe in these laws and theorems. Adam found the question amusing for some reason.

"Most do not believe in intelligent design. The days of organized religion are long past."

She didn't hold a particular faith, but she wouldn't deny the existence of something above human intelligence. A world where no one is worshipped, where everything can be explained? Very unusual.

Ciri pondered her answer for a couple of moments and decided she had misspoken.

"Who do you think created the world?"

"The most common theory is the Big Bang."

"But the Big Bang didn't just happen by itself, did it?"

"At least no intelligent being is responsible for it," Adam replied. "So where were we? The cameras..."

Ciri listened half-heartedly - her head was beginning to splinter from the amount of information, not to mention the fact her legs were shaking from fatigue.

The future had come to this world in an uncommonly uneven way - while some lived in tall, glowing towers, others lay in the streets without food or shelter. Ciri envisioned a society where everyone could control natural forces regardless of magical ability, somehow... fairer.

Not even the whores of Novigrad have that detached look. It's as if everything going on around them is so disgusting that the world of one's dreams is the only way to escape.

The streetlights flickered alarmingly with unnaturally bright red light. It smelled more like familiar shit than this sour-sweet rotten stench. Longing mingled with fear, and Ciri prayed they were getting somewhere.

Adam stopped in front of the massive door of an abandoned building - both the door and the building itself were suspiciously unremarkable. Ciri was haunted by the haunting sensation that someone was watching them.

"Locusts came out of the smoke," Adam said as he jammed the button.

An invisible mechanism kicked in, and the door slid open in two. It was pitch black inside.

At the end of the corridor was a small windowless room, too cramped even for two people. When Adam pressed another button, Ciri's heart sank as they began to plummet downward.

As soon as the doors opened, deafening music hit her eardrums. The drums thundered so furiously that they were declaring holy war on silence. It was impossible to keep one's sanity in this din.

\\"Inside this illusion, everything feels real to me. Synthetic ecstasy as she spreads her legs....."

Yeah, high art. At least "The Girls of Wicovarro" has rhyme.

"No need to get into words," Adam cleared his throat.

The local bard's voice had an unnatural mechanical quality as if he were not a human being. He wasn't visible, though - the gray haze made it possible to see only flickering lights and the outlines of figures in the hall.

Adam asked the guard, huge as a stone troll and with the same "meaningful" expression. He nodded.

They waded through the frenzied crowd. It was hot as a bathhouse: many of the girls were in their underwear. The couples pressed against each other, moving so rhythmically that Ciri wondered if she was dancing.

Mr. Armitage has been expecting your arrival. The door slammed silently shut, and there was a long-awaited silence.

The room they found themselves in was like the womb of an iron beast: steel arches in the shape of curved ridges, glossy marble walls, and smooth leather furniture. Everything was black and gray and white, everything... slimy. The abode of a rich madman.

Ciri turned around, hearing the rustle of wheels.

The man in the black coat was hunched over, huddled in a mobile chair. If Adam was only half metal, the only thing that resembled a human being in the stranger was the mad, piercing eyes. The iron had grown into his body like a tumor, making it impossible to tell where the flesh was and where its semblance was.

A cylinder of black liquid of some kind; threads stretching to his wrists. Something told Ciri that the unfortunate man's life hung on that thread.

The guards hovered over the man, identical, like two porcelain statues. They had the kind of haughty faces that only high-society beauties have.

"Interesting interior," Adam said; he was clearly not a big fan of small talk. "Giger?"

Ciri saw that Giger was in his coffin. Oh, how could you make such a creepy thing?

"I had no doubt, Adam," the man grinned, his white teeth perfectly straight, "that you were a great admirer of biomechanics. Yes, old Rudy was a visionary ahead of his time. All today's masters can do is chew their vomit in the hope of giving birth to something new."

He spoke in that slow, dragging way that people who have nothing to lose and nowhere to hurry usually do.

"Do I know you?" Adam inquired coldly.

"I don't need to know you personally," the man hissed in a nasty wet cough, "... to know everything about you."

The mask of the hospitable host threatened to slip from his face now and then.

"Are you Wintermute?"

"The man laughed hoarsely. On his legs, at the very junction of iron and flesh, there were monstrous scars. Ciri would have preferred this life to death."

"We're a couple of evolutionary turns apart, but I appreciate the compliment. Armitage. Willis Armitage."

"What do you want?"

From behind the wide silk belt that wrapped around one of the guards' hips several times, the hilt of a saber could be seen. A saber. Ciri could have sworn the weapon glowed in the semi-darkness.

"What could a pile of rotting flesh need more than a bucket of neuroposin? I have a much more interesting question - what does the man all of China is looking for need," the man continued as Ciri tried to get a closer look at the saber. "Disappear? Disappear into thin air?"

Adam didn't interrupt, tapping his fingers on the granite table.

"Girl," familiarity usually didn't bode well, "do you know why that's impossible?"

He moved closer, keeping his colorless eyes on her.

"No," Ciri admitted honestly.

"When you entered this world, you signed an invisible agreement in invisible ink. Do you know who your voice, thoughts and face belong to now?"

She shook her head, driven by an eerie curiosity to look closer at the stitches, to ask what had happened to him.

"To the Red Bank," Mr. Armitage answered his question.

"Where are you going with this?" Adam frowned.

"You know exactly where I'm going with this. While the silica eyes are looking for you," he pointed upward with his finger, "you're trapped."

"Are you suggesting we hack Chinese Big Brother? You're not the first, you're not the last."

"No," Armitage shook his head, "of course not. Do I look like a madman to you? If Red Bank could be hacked, I wouldn't need you. It needs to be destroyed."

Something in Adam's answering laugh told Ciri it was easier to strangle a wyvern with the bare hands.

"I fully understand your skepticism, Adam," Armitage kept his gaze on her, "but, you see, a new kind of electromagnetic bomb has recently appeared in the world."

Adam pondered his words for a few moments before speaking:

"What's in it for you?"

"That's what we'll discuss head to head."

The men looked at each other. An awkward silence hung in the air, and Ciri felt like an extra.

"I'd rather keep her in sight," Adam objected.

Armitidge gestured at the glossy surfaces of the mirrors - screens, Ciri corrected herself, remembering her first lessons well. Screens.

"The cameras are at your service. You'll be watching her every move," the cyborg added, seeing the disbelief on his companion's face: "Come on, Adam, if I wanted to kill you, I would have gassed you in the elevator. I'm offering you help."

A wave of irritation came to her throat - she was going to be used once again, and she couldn't even figure out how or why, much less set any conditions. Kill Big Brother? Heavens, another nonsense. Apparently, being a tool in someone's hands is an integral part of her Destiny.

"Help yourself to whatever you want at the bar. Noriko," the man nodded to the guard, and she followed Ciri as a silent shadow.

"It won't take long, Ciri," Adam reassured.

She'll do just fine without supervision.

The music was hammering on her eardrums and was slowly but surely starting to piss me off. In ballads, the lust was at least somewhat veiled, but here it was the same thing: I want, want, want.

"That's a beautiful saber you have," Ciri tried to compliment, hoping to get a closer look at the weapon.

"Sword. Wakizashi," the guard replied in a voice that suggested no further discussion. Ciri had never seen such a beautiful woman in this world - sable eyebrows, hair the color of a raven wing, and slanted eyes like those of the elves. It's a pity she's as undead as a puppet being pulled by its master.

Slipping past the people twitching to the music Ciri sat in a high chair at an oblong table. Noriko watched her, hidden in an alcove, shrouded in a gray haze.

How stupid of me to trust Adam. After what? After a bowl of noodles? He had his agenda, and it wouldn't likely bode well for her. She needs a plan of her own; she needs to figure out what the barriers that block the way are made of. They're like invisible waves - Adam's told of similar ones. If she weren't so sleepy, she'd think of a way around them.

"Tired?" The tavernkeeper asked sympathetically, running his hand through his short-cropped purple hair. He was as big as a boar and painted all over.

Ciri nodded silently.

"I need something to cheer me up," she mumbled. "I'm going to fall asleep on this table." Fearing she'd get another round of brown stuff, Ciri asked, "Any herbs, maybe? Do you know crow's eye? Wolfsbane?"

"I've never heard of that stuff," the man said. "If you want to perk yourself up, I can recommend a specialty blend. It'll keep you up all night."

"Give it," Ciri said with a wave of her hand. They won't poison her - those cyborgs want her alive.

The tavernkeeper glanced questioningly at the guard.

"Boss said let her take what she wants," she shrugged gracefully.

With a couple of deft movements and a gurgling sound, Ciri saw a small glass of clear, odorless liquid in front of her. She instinctively wrinkled her nose at the first sip and then choked. For a moment she thought something hard, like a pea, had slid down her throat.

"You're drinking crap," she said in disgust. It's a worthless world. Nilfgaard's Lemon is peach nectar compared to this.

Ciri leaned back in her chair, covering her eyes. Her head was slightly dizzy. Her mouth was dry.

As soon as she opened her eyes, a whirlwind of colors, sounds, and smells swept over her, completely consuming her consciousness. Lamps flashed green, yellow, red, and blue in pulsing flashes, and people's outfits shimmered as if embroidered with jewels. Scents that had previously blended suddenly became easily recognizable - sweat, musk, ambergris, alcohol. Ciri had never experienced anything like it.

And the music... The music beat to the beat of her heart, penetrating to the very recesses of her soul. Ciri felt as if she were merging with it, that she could hear nothing but the vibrating and extremely deep voice. She wanted to move more than ever before in her life, to run, to fight, to dance... especially to dance!

Part of her realized that she must be drugged, but the euphoria of the madness had pushed rational thought to the back of her mind. And what she felt wasn't even remotely close to the Fysstech. No one can tell her what to do. No one could stop her.

She jumped up from her chair and rushed into the crowd. The strangers smiled, and Ciri couldn't help but smile back, touched by the sudden soulfulness of the sullen folk.

Imitating the local dances is not difficult - just sway your hips rhythmically with your hands up. Jump when others are jumping. Trying to dodge other people's insistent hands. Hands that are too insistent. Someone grabbing her shoulder would risk losing them.

"Ciri!" she turned around. "Shit, I've been gone five minutes!"

The crowd pushed a very disgruntled Adam closer. He's always so grumpy, though.

Something pulled Ciri toward him and made her want to cuddle. Maybe she wanted to see the color of the eyes behind the thick veil of the binoculars. To feel again the perfectly smooth surface of what's its name... carbon fiber. Or maybe she just wanted to dance. For once, she didn't have to make excuses for herself; the urge alone was enough to act.

She heard her heart beating. It was measured in time with the music. There was something about it.

Something special.

"Dance with me."

Adam took a deep breath. Gently he squeezed her wrist and pulled her with him. Ciri resisted - she didn't want to go anywhere, she wanted to dance the night away.

"What the hell did you give her?" Adam's voice came from somewhere far away.

Everything blurred. The bright shapes became more and more bizarre, turning into... something else.

"...she asked for it...don't worry, she'll be back soon.....

That phrase was followed by the sound of a bang - or was it drums - Ciri didn't know. She didn't even know where she was now.

An icy wasteland. A frozen wasteland spread out for hundreds of versts. The world had died, leaving no heirs; the merciless cold; the oppressive black void. Everything they had created turned to nothing. The towers fell; the ruins were buried beneath the black waters. The rift became the grave of millions... billions.....

No... That's impossible. This is the fate of the Continent not of Adam's world. Something has happened. The world is off its axis.

"Ciri, wake up! Are there any damn medics here?"

Tir na Lia. The city that almost became her prison. A city she hated with all her heart. The cold had not taken it away - no, in Tir na Lia there were still waterfalls flowing, flowers blooming, flowers that had no name in human language....

But there is no one to enjoy the beauty. Nothing capable of breathing or thinking - not even ashes left of them. Dead silence.

"Epileptic fucking epileptic!" a woman's shrill voice nearly burst my eardrums. "Turn the music down, you fucking asshole!"

Wherever she goes, death follows. Plague. Destruction. Chill. These worlds were never meant to touch.

"What asshole gave her drugs?" the woman continued to shriek.

Adam. The black surface of the binoculars reflected death.

"It's okay," he tried to reassure her as the world spiraled and tumbled downward. "I'm right here. You're in no danger."

* * *

Внимание! Этот перевод, возможно, ещё не готов.
Его статус: идёт перевод

Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/86809/569087

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP