《Iris 》作者：- William Barton & Michael Capobianco【EPUB】

zaq

IRIS WILLIAM BARTON and MICHAEL CAPOBIANCO All of the characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons living or deadis purely coincidental. AVON BOOKS INC. 1350 Avenue of the Americas New York New York 10019 Copyright ?? 1990 by William Barton and Michael Capobianco Cover art by Chris Moore Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 89-32501 ISBN: 0-380-73038-3 www.avonbooks.com/eos All rights reserved which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any formwhatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address Avon Books Inc. First Avon Eos Printing: September 1999 AVON EOS TRADEMARK REG. U.S. PAT. OFF. AND IN OTHER COUNTRIES. MARCAREOISTRADA HECHO EN U.S.A. Printed in the U.S.A. WCD 10 98765432 Dedicated to The Voyager 2 Computer Command Subsystem Ave atque vale The Falsehood that exalts we cherish more Than meaner truths that are a thousand strong. —pushkin IRIS ONE Load. Uplink. Begin. Achmet Aziz el-Tabari who called himself Demogorgon the Illimitor Artist was on his knees beforeBrendan Sealock scientist engineer gladiator. . . . Cultural labels made a miasma between them thatwas too thick to be thrust aside. It made them things defying understanding. He looked up at the man. He looked at the curly dirty reddish-blond hair the acrid green eyes almosthidden in deep dark wells beneath shaggy brows at the broad face with its high heavy cheekbones atthe flattened nose the wide frowning mouth framed with shadowy lines and the massive jaw. He lookedat the thick neck above powerful rounded shoulders the heavily muscled chest and the broad waist withits solid stomach lightly padded with fat. He looked at the long arms roped with vein-netted muscles thatstood out like an anatomical chart. He ran his hands over the corded tree-trunk legs through a thin layerof light cloth. So ... His own voice whispered to him from far away rhyming rhymes naming names. Culture it saidand tradition . . . quotBrendan. Tell me again why you wont do anything with mequot The man smiled faintly. quotYoure the faggot here not me. Besides Im your . . . what is it you call mequot quotYoure my Great Dark Man Brendan. Its from a book that was written more than a hundred andfifty years ago.quot quotYeah.quot He laced his fingers through Demogorgons coarse black hair and jammed his crotch forwardinto the mans face. quotSo get to work.quot As the mans sharp nose began to jab rhythmically