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

Disney empire, flush withcash after the success of its latest animated
feature, Disney's Golden Ass ofApuleius. (The computer industry that formerly
provided much of the area'swealth and stable tax base was churning spastically
under the introduction ofcarbon-based buckytube circuitry, and Governor
Simpson saw the sale of Los Gatosas a fine way to tauten a sagging bottom line
in the state's budget.) Thischarming, compact town, not far from major
population centers, suited Disney'splans perfectly: the corporation intended
to construct a monument to one oftheir relatively unsung geniuses, a staff
creator for much of his life who hadyet managed to emerge from the bland
anonymity that cloaked most Disney artists.The cult artist Carl Barks had been
born in 1901. At the turn of the century hewas still alive. And his work had
more fans than ever.Starting in the late 1940s, Barks had jolted the basic
boring Donald Duck printuniverse -- always a minor tentacle of the Disney
octopus with about ten zillionvolts of creative energy. In hundreds of
comicbook adventures over the nextthree decades, Barks added intriguing new
characters and dense backstory to theformerly one-note Disney property,
creating a rich Benday-dot cosmos. Aided bysuperior artwork, abetted by humor
and a sense of adventure, Barks succeeded inplacing his own unique stamp on
Uncle Walt's creation. Barks's work had beenreprinted and idolized now for
nearly half a century. Motivated by a smidgen ofbenevolence and a heap of
self-interest, the Disney suits had decided thatBarks's centennial was time to
build the man a monument.The Disney imagineers moved into Los Gatos. Under the
terms of their purchase,they owned every property in town, which the state had
first seized by eminentdomain. But the generous enterprise promptly leased the
buildings back to anycitizens and businesses who wished to remain through the
transition. Withintwelve months, thousands of workers had transformed Los
Gatos into a fenced-offsimulacrum of Barks's Duckburg. Role-playing employees
were brought in tosupplement the other, non-costumed citizens, the admission
booths were opened,and Duckburg was in business, after a stirring ceremony
involving its humbleaged founder and a host of luminaries.The Disney drones
had even found some genuine Barkses willing to relocate toDuckburg. Harry and
Norma Barks, with their young daughter Ginger, were distantrelatives down on
their luck and happy to move to a town where they would becomeinstant
celebrities with a new home and guaranteed income.At the same time, the former
Mrs. Jane Harmon, having reverted to her maidenname of Greet, arrived at the
model community, looking for a new start. With herlover, Lorna Lish, and using
money from her divorce settlement, Jane Greer setup a ceramics shop in
Duckburg. (Having successfully beaten the pitifullyineffective Southern
Baptist boycott, Disney was now actively and openlyencouraging gay and lesbian
participation in all its affairs, and so endowedJane Greer with many generous
tax breaks and incentives.)And so it was that little Gary Greer-Lish was soon
enrolled with Ginger Barksand all the other potential Junior Woodchucks in
Duckburg's school.No genius was necessary to coin Gary's nickname in this
milieu. Within an hourof the first roll-call, every one of his peers was
hailing him as GyroGearloose.Gary's consternation, as might be imagined, was
thick and weighty. Uprooted,friendless, unfamiliar with the basis of his new
community, he reacted badly atfirst to the nerdy nickname.One recess period,
as Gary sat disconsolately in the fragrant shade of aeucalyptus tree, one of
his female classmates approached him."I think Gyro Gearloose is cool," Ginger
Barks said, then, red-faced withembarrassment, hurried off.That was all it