"Paul Di Filippo - Weeping Walls" - читать интересную книгу автора (Di Filippo Paul)

WHYTE STAR LINES TITANICK.
"They're all like this," Jake complained.
Surprisingly, Lisa did not explode, but remained serene. "Oh, I guess I didn't get aroun
telling you. As I might have predicted, the bas-tards at TimWarDisVia wouldn't lease the r
to use the real name, so I figured we'd get around them this way. They've still got a hair the
of a hawser up their asses since we pulled this end run around their pathetic Sadness Fen
Have you seen the price of their stock lately? Their shareholders have to use a ladder to k
slug's ass. And I hear they're switching to chain link to cut costs."
"But won't our customers complain about the inaccuracy?"
"Duh! Our customers, Jake, will be a bunch of romantic idiots just minutes away fro
watery grave. If it makes you any happier, we'll just hit them with the hemlock cocktail be
they even board our tub, instead of after. They'll be too woozy to recognize their own faces
mirror, never mind spotting a frigging historical fuckup. Just make sure you round up en
dockside wheelchairs, okay? And don't forget the GPS transponders for the clients. We
want to lose any of the stiffs once the ship goes down."
"What about the relatives, though? Won't they see the error in their souvenir videos
complain?"
"Those fucking vultures! Most of them are so happy to see their enfeebled parents and a
and uncles going out in a blaze of glory that they couldn't care less about historical accur
Remember, JakeтАФ we're selling fantasy here, not something like a TV docudrama that ha
adhere to some rigorous standards."
Jake dismissed the worker with the historically dubious deck chair and closed the
before speaking further.
"Is Danny still talking about pulling out?"
Lisa frowned. "Not for the past couple of days. But I can still sense he's not exactly a h
camper."
"Did you apologize to him about Bonnie and Clyde?"
"Yes, Dear Abby, I apologizedтАФeven though it wasn't my fucking fault! Who knew that
our suicides were junkies and that the juice would take longer to work on their dope-tole
bodies? So a blood-gushing Bonnie and Clyde kept staggering around yelling 'Ouch!'
seeming to be hit by about a million bullets and ruined his precious script! God, he is su
fucking perfectionist!"
"He's an artist," said Jake.
"My Christ, what do I hear? Are you hot for him now? I wish I'd never told you abou
fucking massive cock."
Jake quelled his irritation. "That's not it at all. I just sympathize with his ambitions."
Lisa stood up huffily. "All right. If it'll make you feel any better, I'll pay Danny a visit
now, in the middle of my busy workday, just to show I'm a caring kind of bitch."
"He is essential to our continued success, after all."
"Don't kid yourself, sweetie. The only essential one is me."

"It's just no use, Carol. I can't convince myself that helping people die melodramatical
art."

Perched on the corner of Danny's desk like a concupiscent Kewpie, Carol frowned
earnest empathy. "But Danny, what we're doing it's so, it's soтАФconceptual!"
Danny dismissed this palliative jargon. "Oh, sure, that's what I've kept telling myself
three long months. We were pushing the envelope on performance art, subverting cul
expectations, jamming the news machine, highlighting the hypocrisy of the funeral indu
Lord knows, I've tried a dozen formulations of the same excuse. But it all rings hollow to m