"7_Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency" - читать интересную книгу автора (Adams Douglas)

channels simultaneously, and this caused it to blow a bank of
illogic circuits. The video recorder only had to watch them, of
course. It didn't have to believe them all as well. This is why
instruction manuals are so important.
So after a hectic week of believing that war was peace,
that good was bad, that the moon was made of blue cheese, and
that God needed a lot of money sent to a certain box number,
the Monk started to believe that thirty-five percent of all
tables were hermaphrodites, and then broke down. The man from
the Monk shop said that it needed a whole new motherboard, but
then pointed out that the new improved Monk Plus models were
twice as powerful, had an entirely new multi-tasking, Negative
Capability feature that allowed them to hold up to sixteen
entirely different and contradictory ideas in memory
simultaneously without generating any irritating system errors,
were twice as fast and at least three times as glib, and you
could have a whole new one for less than the cost of replacing
the motherboard of the old model.
That was it. Done.
The faulty Monk was turned out into the desert where it
could believe what it liked, including the idea that it had
been hard done by. It was allowed to keep its horse, since
horses were so cheap to make.
For a number of days and nights, which it variously
believed to be three; forty-three, and five hundred and
ninety-eight thousand seven hundred and three, it roamed the
desert, putting its simple Electric trust in rocks, birds,
clouds and a form of non-existent elephant-asparagus, until at
last it fetched up here, on this high rock, overlooking a
valley that was not, despite the deep fervour of the Monk's
belief, pink. Not even a little bit.
Time passed.

Chapter Three...

Time passed.
Susan waited.
The more Susan waited, the more the doorbell didn't ring.
Or the phone. She looked at her watch. She felt that now was
about the time that she could legitimately begin to feel cross.
She was cross already, of course, but that had been in her own
time, so to speak. They were well and truly into his time now,
and even allowing for traffic, mishaps, and general vagueness
and diIatoriness, it was now well over half an hour past the
time that he had insisted was the latest time they could
possibly afford to leave, so she'd better be ready.
She tried to worry that something terrible had happened to
him, but didn't believe it for a moment. Nothing terrible ever
happened to him, though she was beginning to think that it was
time it damn well did. If nothing terrible happened to him soon