"Attanasio, A A - Radix 02 - In Other Worlds 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Attanasio A.A)

Apple did he begin to feel good about himself. That was
a year ago when Zee had reappeared. Now Zee came
by often with a crowd of students to fill the Blue Apple
up, and Carl was always happy to see him. They shook
hands, and a loud spark snapped between their palms.
"Wow!" Zee yelled. "Are you charged! You look like you're
being electrocuted-very slowly." He shifted his dark, slim eyes
toward the table Sheelagh was clearing, her pendulous breasts
swaying with her effort-. "She's overloading you?"
"Today's an unusual day for me, buddy, but not that unusual.
What'll you have?"
"Give me a Harp."
Carl took out a bottle of Harp lager from the ice cooler and
poured it into a frosted mug. "The wiring's shot around the bar. I
can't get this blender or even the damn lightbulbs to work right."
Zee reached over, and the blender purred under his touch.
"It's the same way with women and me. The touch must be light
yet assertive. I think you've got a lot of backed-up orgone in there."
He stabbed Carl's midriff with a swizzle stick. "How about a run
with me tomorrow? We'll follow the Westway down to the twin
towers. I'll go easy on ya."
Carl agreed, and they chatted amiably about their usual
subjects-slow running and fast women-while Carl tended to
business. Later, as he was leaving, Zee leaned close and whispered:
"No sense wearing that

expensive cologne if you're going to dress like that." He
reached out to shake, thought better of it, saluted, and left.
The rest of the day was a bumbling of small accidents for Carl.
The bar's electrical system gave-out entirely, and he had to mix
drinks by hand and repeatedly go down to the basement cooler for
ice. The tiny screws in his eyeglasses popped out; and he lost a lens
down an open drain. Napkins clung tenaciously to his fingers, no
matter how dry he kept them, and he spilled several drinks before
he got used to the paper coasters coming away with his hand.
Midway through the dinner shift, with the house jammed, the lights
began dimming. When he left; the bar to check the fuse box, the
light came up, only to fade again on his return. "This is weird," Carl
at last acknowledged, running both hands through his startled hair.
Sparks crackled between his fingers. "I'm going home." He went
over to the pay phone to call a neighborhood friend to cover for
him, but he couldn't get a dial tone. Moments later a customer used
the same phone without difficulty.
Carl waited until Sheelagh came to the bar with drink orders,
then signed her toward a vacant corner. "What's wrong with me
tonight, Sheelagh?"
"Your glasses are missing a lens. Your clothes need ironing.
And you really should comb your hair."
"No--I mean, look at this." He touched her arm, and a large
spark volted between them.