"Paul Di Filippo - Stink Lines" - читать интересную книгу автора (Di Filippo Paul)

reached a certain density of conceptualizationwas fair game for display, as
words or pictographs. Husbands and wives, bossesand employees, salesmen and
news anchors, diplomats and world leaders -- allfound their formerly hidden
sentiments suddenly spotlighted for anyone to read.International and domestic
antagonisms that would not be settled for decadesinstantly blossomed.The
initial effect was similar to worldwide attack by deadly antipersonnel
bombsthat left infrastructure intact. Streets and public buildings emptied as
peoplehuddled at home (in separate rooms for each family member) closeted with
theirsuddenly naked thoughts. And had most of society's vital services not
been fullycybernetically maintained (Li'l Bulb's cousins, anthropomorphic or
not, had nothoughts they were ashamed of), complete collapse of society would
have swiftlyfollowed this mass abandonment of the workplace.Within a couple of
days of the advent of this prosthetic telepathy, a fewmakeshift strategies to
avoid the thought balloons had been devised. The highestlevels of the world's
many governments now functioned in airtight rooms whoseatmospheres had been
cleansed of fog by meticulous filtering. And since thedramatic yet wispy
utility fog displays could be dispersed with a sufficentbreeze, the few people
brave enough to mingle took to carrying portable fans andblowing away their
thoughts before they could be read.During this crisis, Gyro had of course not
been inactive. Spending debilitatinghours under his neuron-goading hat, he
strove to come up with some method ofdisabling the utility fog. But no easy
answer presented itself. His best plan --to release killer nanodevices in
sufficient numbers to eat up the fog -- wasinstantly and loudly vetoed by
every world leader. No one was willing to risk asecond plague possibly worse
than the first.Today Gyro was at the end of his wits. Wracked by guilt --
which manifesteditself as an impressive yet weightless anvil atop his
shoulders -- he probablywould have simply quit by now, had it not been for his
small band of supporters:Mina, Ginger, and Li'l Bulb. These three stalwarts
had never been far from hisside during the past week. Mina, seemingly
recovered from her heartbreak,handled all practical details, including meals.
Ginger dispensed cheer, whilefiling report after objective and charitable
report to her newspaper, and thenceto an expectant and angry world. Li'l Bulb
helped on the technical front.Additionally, Mayor Ramie, designated the
official government contact with thecriminal inventor, visited often, bringing
with him blustery reassurances andencouragements, along with invariably
innocuous thought balloons that testifiedto his essentially empty mind.
(Already, there was talk of running him forGovernor of California.)There came
a visible and audible knock at the door. How long ago it seemed,thought Gyro
weakly, that first knock of Mina's proving his illomened brainstorma reality.
Gyro raised his weighty head, and the everpresent anvil recalibratedits
location on his shoulders."Come in."Ginger Barks had lost her stink lines. Too
busy to go home and get her perfume,yet not neglecting revivifying showers in
the Happy Duck Research gymfacilities, she no longer triggered the utility
fog's repulsive iconography.Holding up incredibly well under the pressure, she
actually looked more radiantby the day. Gyro loved her more than ever, yet had
never felt her to be furtherout of his reach.After that first harsh thought
had escaped her in the parking lot, Ginger hadbeen very careful to keep her
displayed inner sentiments scrupulously neutral.This control could be
achieved, but only by stringent acts of will most peoplefound themselves
incapable of. Prior practice with some form of meditationappeared to help, and