"c72" - читать интересную книгу автора (Burt Andrew - Noontide Night)

3:30 A.M., Saturday, January 1, 2000
Agate, Colorado

Nate woke up to the sound of the floors creaking and the rumble of the coal-burning furnace coming on. The former was an annoying reminder that he had far more guests than he'd ever imagined. The latter, that New Century Energy's gas line must have quit feeding his house and he was running on his coal-powered backup system. Ironic that NCE had recently changed their company name to that, he thought. Nate peeked from the covers to see light slicing under his door. Outside it was dark as tar; dawn was many hours away and the waning crescent of the moon was hidden beyond a layer of thick clouds. Dammit! Nate thought. He'd been so tired last night he forgot to tell everyone to keep the lights off. They could eat what food they could find in the kitchen—most of it was locked away where only Nate and his brother knew—but dammit, they had to keep the lights off at night. The house was a few miles from I-70, but not far enough for desperate folks to miss. Nate yanked over his keyboard and with a few clicks, cut the lights in the house. A dish crashed from the general direction of the kitchen. Shouts and several loud grousing voices followed. A red warning on the screen reported that phone service had been out for hours. Outside power was spotty; Public Service had cut themselves off from the main grid, and were engaged in rolling blackouts with what limited generating capacity they had locally; though even at full power, that had been insufficient for years, and now that their sources of purchased power were experiencing difficulties, most of the area was blacked out most of the time. Nate pulled General Sherman close, thanked himself for the generator, and forced himself to sleep for a few more hours. A pounding on his door awoke Nate the second time. It was light outside, but just barely. "Hey, Nate, you in there?" It was his brother, Russ. "Turn on the lights, man!" "'Lights, Camera, Anguish,'" he mumbled as he enabled the lights and dressed. The Emergency Alert System broadcast on his bathroom radio downplayed the problems, reminding everyone not to panic; but that food and water ration coupons would be available just in case. He made for the kitchen. Bodies slept everywhere, as if he'd stumbled into a Red Cross emergency shelter. A few wandered around as if they'd woken up at someone else's house after a party and had made themselves at home. "Hey, first shooting of 2000," Jamal said to Nate, motioning to the TV, which was on softly. One local station was broadcasting with limited power. It must feel odd, Nate thought, to be a newscaster not knowing if you had an audience. "A Highlands Ranch man was shot to death during a riot this morning at the Park Meadows' Costco Warehouse," one of the local weekend news anchors said. "His name has not been released pending notification of next of kin, but eyewitnesses say the riot began when managers tried to close the store. A shopper pulled a gun and..." Nate shook his head and walked away. He'd told everyone to expect this. Why hadn't people listened when presented with obvious truths? There was, he had told everyone he could, no way that the year 2000 bug could not be a source of societal upheaval on par with the Great Depression or the second world war. So many computer programs the world depended on at every level and so few programmers; and the ultra-low levels of unemployment in the last couple years meant, clearly, there were already too few people for even the low-paying jobs that the lack of automation would so dramatically increase. Incompetent people were hired simply to fill jobs. Plan ahead! he'd cried. And nobody listened. Now it was loosed upon the world. There was nothing to do but ride it out. Though with several times the number of bodies in the house, that was going to take planning. He picked up General Sherman and put him into his lap. He called up the house manifests and once again set out to stretch the supplies. Anything to avoid thinking about Amber. She had, Jamal told him, left in Georgina's car.

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Chapter 7.2

3:30 A.M., Saturday, January 1, 2000
Agate, Colorado

Nate woke up to the sound of the floors creaking and the rumble of the coal-burning furnace coming on. The former was an annoying reminder that he had far more guests than he'd ever imagined. The latter, that New Century Energy's gas line must have quit feeding his house and he was running on his coal-powered backup system. Ironic that NCE had recently changed their company name to that, he thought. Nate peeked from the covers to see light slicing under his door. Outside it was dark as tar; dawn was many hours away and the waning crescent of the moon was hidden beyond a layer of thick clouds. Dammit! Nate thought. He'd been so tired last night he forgot to tell everyone to keep the lights off. They could eat what food they could find in the kitchen—most of it was locked away where only Nate and his brother knew—but dammit, they had to keep the lights off at night. The house was a few miles from I-70, but not far enough for desperate folks to miss. Nate yanked over his keyboard and with a few clicks, cut the lights in the house. A dish crashed from the general direction of the kitchen. Shouts and several loud grousing voices followed. A red warning on the screen reported that phone service had been out for hours. Outside power was spotty; Public Service had cut themselves off from the main grid, and were engaged in rolling blackouts with what limited generating capacity they had locally; though even at full power, that had been insufficient for years, and now that their sources of purchased power were experiencing difficulties, most of the area was blacked out most of the time. Nate pulled General Sherman close, thanked himself for the generator, and forced himself to sleep for a few more hours. A pounding on his door awoke Nate the second time. It was light outside, but just barely. "Hey, Nate, you in there?" It was his brother, Russ. "Turn on the lights, man!" "'Lights, Camera, Anguish,'" he mumbled as he enabled the lights and dressed. The Emergency Alert System broadcast on his bathroom radio downplayed the problems, reminding everyone not to panic; but that food and water ration coupons would be available just in case. He made for the kitchen. Bodies slept everywhere, as if he'd stumbled into a Red Cross emergency shelter. A few wandered around as if they'd woken up at someone else's house after a party and had made themselves at home. "Hey, first shooting of 2000," Jamal said to Nate, motioning to the TV, which was on softly. One local station was broadcasting with limited power. It must feel odd, Nate thought, to be a newscaster not knowing if you had an audience. "A Highlands Ranch man was shot to death during a riot this morning at the Park Meadows' Costco Warehouse," one of the local weekend news anchors said. "His name has not been released pending notification of next of kin, but eyewitnesses say the riot began when managers tried to close the store. A shopper pulled a gun and..." Nate shook his head and walked away. He'd told everyone to expect this. Why hadn't people listened when presented with obvious truths? There was, he had told everyone he could, no way that the year 2000 bug could not be a source of societal upheaval on par with the Great Depression or the second world war. So many computer programs the world depended on at every level and so few programmers; and the ultra-low levels of unemployment in the last couple years meant, clearly, there were already too few people for even the low-paying jobs that the lack of automation would so dramatically increase. Incompetent people were hired simply to fill jobs. Plan ahead! he'd cried. And nobody listened. Now it was loosed upon the world. There was nothing to do but ride it out. Though with several times the number of bodies in the house, that was going to take planning. He picked up General Sherman and put him into his lap. He called up the house manifests and once again set out to stretch the supplies. Anything to avoid thinking about Amber. She had, Jamal told him, left in Georgina's car.


back | next home