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Immortality, Inc. / Êîðïîðàöèÿ Áåññìåðòèå (Sheckley Robert / Øåêëè Ðîáåðò)

÷òîáû óáðàòü ðåêëàìó ñäåëàéòå ðåãèñòðàöèþ/àâòîðèçóéòåñü íà ñàéòå

Immortality, Inc. / Êîðïîðàöèÿ Áåññìåðòèå (Sheckley Robert / Øåêëè Ðîáåðò)

Àóäèîêíèãà Immortality, Inc. / Êîðïîðàöèÿ Áåññìåðòèå


Àìåðèêàíñêèé ïèñàòåëü ôàíòàñòè÷åñêèõ ðîìàíîâ Ðîáåðò Øåêëè, îáëàäàåò íåîãðàíè÷åííîé ôàíòàçèåé, ïðèâîäÿ ÷èòàòåëÿ íà ïåðâûé âçãëÿä â àáñóðäíóþ ñèòóàöèþ, íàñòîëüêî õèòðîóìíî ïåðåïëåòàåò âñå íèòè ñîáûòèé, ÷òî íåâîëüíî çàòÿãèâàåøüñÿ â ÷òåíèå è íà÷èíàåøü ñ âîñõèùåíèåì «íàáëþäàòü» çà ýòîé «àáñóðäíîé» êàðòèíîé. Áóêâàëüíî êàæäûé ìîæåò íàéòè ñâîþ àíàëîãèþ èç ëè÷íîãî îïûòà, èç ñâîåé çåìíîé æèçíüþ ñ ÿðêèìè õàðàêòåðàìè è âñå òåìå æå çåìíûìè ïðîáëåìàìè è ÷åëîâå÷åñêèìè íåäîñòàòêàìè, êàê íà äàëåêèõ ãàëàêòèêàõ, òàê è â äàëåêîì áóäóùåì èëè ïðîøëîì...
Ãëàâíûé ãåðîé ðîìàíà Êîðïîðàöèÿ «Áåññìåðòèÿ» Òîìàñ Áëåéí. Óìèðàÿ â àâòîêàòàñòðîôå îêàçûâàåòñÿ â áåëîé ïàëàòå, ãäå âîêðóã íåãî íåïîíÿòíûé ëþäè áåðóò ó íåãî èíòåðâüþ è áîëåå òîãî, îí óçíàåò, ÷òî îí óæå íàõîäèòñÿ â äðóãîì òåëå(!) è â äàëåêîì áóäóùåì..
×òî òàèò â ñåáå äàëåêîå áóäóùèå, ñìîæåò ëè Áëåéí íàéòè ñâîå ìåñòî â ýòîì ìèðå, ñïðàâèòñÿ ëè îí ñî âñåìè ñëîæíîñòÿìè, íåïîíÿòíî îòêóäà ïîÿâèâøèìñÿ çîìáè, è ïðèçðàêîì ïðåçèäåíòà êîìïàíèè ÐÝÊÑ. Âñå ýòî âû ñìîæåòå óçíàòü, ïðî÷èòàâ (ïðîñëóøàâ) ðîìàí - Êîðïîðàöèÿ Áåññìåðòèÿ.

Ðåéòèíã:
Ïðîñìîòðîâ: 20 493
Íàçâàíèå:
Immortality, Inc. / Êîðïîðàöèÿ Áåññìåðòèå (Sheckley Robert / Øåêëè Ðîáåðò)
Ãîä âûïóñêà àóäèîêíèãè:
2011
Àâòîð:
Sheckley Robert / Øåêëè Ðîáåðò
Èñïîëíèòåëü:
Bronson Pinchot
ßçûê:
Àíãëèéñêèé
Æàíð:
Àóäèîêíèãè íà àíãëèéñêîì ÿçûêå / Àóäèîêíèãè æàíðà ôàíòàñòèêà íà àíãëèéñêîì ÿçûêå / Àóäèîêíèãè æàíðà þìîð íà àíãëèéñêîì ÿçûêå / Àóäèîêíèãè óðîâíÿ upper-intermediate íà àíãëèéñêîì
Óðîâåíü ñëîæíîñòè:
upper-intermediate
Äëèòåëüíîñòü àóäèî:
05:48:17
Áèòðåéò àóäèî:
96 kbps

Ñëóøàòü îíëàéí Immortality, Inc. / Êîðïîðàöèÿ Áåññìåðòèå àóäèîêíèãó íà àíãëèéñêîì ÿçûêå:

Ñêà÷àòü òåêñò êíèãè â ôîðìàòå .doc (Word) ïî ïðÿìîé ññûëêå sheckley-robert.-immortality-inc.doc [409 Kb] (cêà÷èâàíèé: 469) .
Ñêà÷àòü audiobook (MP3) ïî ïðÿìîé ññûëêå robert_sheckley.immortality.mp3 [239.35 Mb] (cêà÷èâàíèé: 1108) .

 

Ñêà÷àòü àóäèî (MP3) + êíèãà (.doc) "Immortality, Inc. / Êîðïîðàöèÿ Áåññìåðòèå" (Sheckley Robert / Øåêëè Ðîáåðò) îäíèì ôàéëîì (áåñïëàòíî):


×èòàòü êíèãó íà àíãëèéñêîì îíëàéí:

(×òîáû ïåðåâîäèòü ñëîâà íà ðóññêèé ÿçûê è äîáàâëÿòü â ñëîâàðü äëÿ èçó÷åíèÿ, ùåëêàåì ìûøêîé íà íóæíîå ñëîâî).


IMMORTALITY, INC by Robert Sheckley PART ONE 1 Afterwards, Thomas Blaine thought about the manner of his dying and wished it had been more interesting. Why couldn't his death have come while he was battling a typhoon, meeting a tiger's charge, or climbing a windswept mountain? Why had his death been so tame, so commonplace, so ordinary? But an enterprising death, he realized, would have been out of character for him. Undoubtedly he was meant to die in just the quick, common, messy, painless way he did. And all his life must have gone into the forming and shaping of that death — a vague indication in childhood, a fair promise in his college years, an implacable certainty at the age of thirty-two. Still, no matter how commonplace, one's death is the most interesting event of one's life. Blaine thought about his with intense curiosity. He had to know about those minutes, those last precious seconds when his own particular death lay waiting for him on a dark New Jersey highway. Had there been some warning sign, some portent? What had he done, or not done? What had he been thinking? Those final seconds were crucial to him. How, exactly, had he died? He had been driving over a straight, empty white highway, his headlights probing ahead, the darkness receding endlessly before him. His speedometer read seventy-five. It felt like forty. Far down the road he saw headlights coming toward him, the first in hours. Blaine was returning to New York after a week's vacation at his cabin on Chesapeake Bay. He had fished and swum and dozed in the sun on the rough planks of his dock. One day he sailed his sloop to Oxford and attended a dance at the yacht club that night. He met a silly, pert-nosed girl in a blue dress who told him he looked like a South Seas adventurer, so tanned and tall in his khakis. He sailed back to his cabin the next day, to doze in the sun and dream of giving up everything, loading his sailboat with canned goods and heading for Tahiti. Ah Raiatea, the mountains of Morrea, the fresh trade wind … But a continent and an ocean lay between him and Tahiti, and other obstacles besides. The thought was only for an hour's dreaming, and definitely not to be acted upon. Now he was returning to New York, to his job as a junior yacht designer for the famous old firm of Mattison

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