"Jack Dann - Blind Shemmy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dann Jack)

"Well, then," said the purser, folding his hands on the desk, "we are at your disposal for as long
as you wish to stay with us." He gestured toward the terrier and said, "Johnny will give you the
tour," but Pfeiffer politely declined. Johnny ushered them into a central room, which was anything
but quiet, and-after a wink at Pfeiffer-discreetly disappeared.
The room was as crowded as the city ways. It was filled with what looked to be the ragtag, the
bums and the street people, the captains of the ways. Here was a perfect replica of a street
casino, but perfectly safe. This was a street casino, at least to Pfeiffer, who was swept up in
the noise and bustle, as he whetted his appetite for the dangerous pleasures of the top level.
Ancient iron bandits whispered "chinks-chinks" and rolled their picture-frame eyes in promise of a
jackpot, which was immediately transferred to the winner's account by magnetic sleight of hand.
The amplified, high-pitched
voices of pinball computers on the walls called out winning hands of poker and blackjack. A
simulated stabbing drew nothing more than a few glances. Tombstone booths were filled with figures


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working through their own Stations of the Cross. Hooked-in winners were rewarded with bursts of
electrically induced ecstasy; losers writhed in pain and suffered through the brain-crushing
aftershock of week-long migraines.
And, of course, battered robots clattered around with the traditional complement of drugs, drink,
and food. The only incongruity was a perfectly dressed geisha, who quickly disappeared into one of
the iris-doors on the far wall.
"Do you want to play the one-armed bandits?" Joan asked, fighting her growing claustrophobia,
wishing only to escape into quiet; but she was determined to try to keep Pfeiffer from going
upstairs. Yet, ironically-all her emotions seemed to be simultaneously yin and yang-she also
wanted him to gamble away his organs. She knew that she would feel a guilty thrill if he lost his
heart. Then she pulled down the lever of the one-armed bandit; it would read her finger-and odor-
prints and transfer or deduct the proper amount to or from Pfeiffer's account. The eyes rolled and
clicked and one hundred international credit dollars was lost. "Easy come, easy go. At least, this-
is a safe way to go. But you didn't come here to be safe, right?" Joan asked mockingly.
"You can remain down here, if you like," Pfeiffer said, looking about the room for an exit,
noticing that iris doors were spaced every few meters on the nearest wall to his left. The casino
must take up the whole bloody block, he thought. "How the hell do I get out of here?"
Before Joan could respond, Johnny appeared, as if out of nowhere, and said, "Monsieur Pfeiffer may
take any
one of the ascenseurs, or, if he would care for the view of our palace, he could take the
staircase to heaven." He smiled, baring even teeth, and curtsied to Pfeiffer, who was blushing.
The boy certainly knows his man, Joan thought sourly.
Am I jealous? she asked herself. She cared for Pfeiffer, but didn't love him-at least she didn't
think she did.
"Shall I attend you?" Johnny asked Pfeiffer, ignoring Joan.
"No," said Pfeiffer. "Now please leave us alone."
"Well, which is it?" asked Joan. "The elevator would be quickest, zoom you right to the organ
room."
"We can take the stairs," Pfeiffer said, a touch of blush still in his cheeks. But he would say
nothing about the furry boy. "Jesus, it seems that everytime I blink my eye, the stairway
disappears."
"I'll show you the way," Joan said, taking his arm.