"George Alec Effinger - All the Last Wars at Once" - читать интересную книгу автора (Effinger George Alec)

of emergency has been declared for the following municipalities in New Jersey:
Absecon, Adelphia, Allendale, Allenhurst, Allentown, Allenwood, Alloway, AlphaтАж
Well, as my eye travels over this list of some eight or nine hundred towns I notice
that only a few aren't listed, notably Convent Station and Peapack. You can pretty
well assume that things are bad all over. That goes for the New York, Pennsylvania,
and Connecticut regions as well.
"We have some footage that was shot in Newark about ten minutes after the New
Haven declaration. It's pretty tense out there now. The expert analysts in the news
media are astounded that the intense polarization and outbreaks of rioting occurred
so quickly. Let's take a look at those films now.
"Apparently there's some diffiтАФ
"I don't know, what canтАж experiencing ourselves some of this interference
withтАж refusal to evenтАж
"тАФrifying. They're running around out there like maniacs, shooting andтАФ
"тАФflames and the smoke isтАФyou can see the clouds against the sky, between the
buildings like waves ofтАФ"
 It was a pink mimeographed factsheet. Frowning, he stuffed it into his pocket.
"Factsheet," eh? It had been several days since Stevie had heard a fact that he could
trust.
Nobody was saying anything worth listening to. The fact-sheets had begun the
second day with the expected clutter of charges and accusations, but soon everyone
realized that this wasn't going to be that kind of war. Nobody gave a good goddamn
what happened to anyone else. On the third day the few angry allegations that were
made were answered with "our own sources do not indicate that, in fact, any such
incident actually occurred" or with a curt "T.S., baby!" or, finally, no reply at all.
Now the factsheets just bragged, or warned, or threatened.
Stevie was hitchhiking, which was a dangerous thing to do but no more
dangerous than sitting in an apartment waiting for the blazing torches. He felt that if
he were going to be a target, a moving target offered the better odds.
He carried a pistol and a rifle that he had liberated from Abercrombie & Fitch.
The hot morning sun gleamed on the zippers and studs of his black leathers. He
stood by the side of the parkway, smiling grimly to himself as he waited for a ride.
Every car that came around the curve was a challenge, one that he was more than
willing to accept. There wasn't much traffic lately, and for that Stevie was sorry. He
was really getting to dig this.
A car approached, a late model black Imperial with its headlights burning. He set
himself, ready to dodge into the ditch on the side of the road. Stevie stared through
the windshield as the car came nearer. He let out his breath suddenly: It was a white
chick. It looked like she had liberated the car; maybe she was looking for someone
to team up with. Even if she was a dog, it would beat hitching.
The Imperial passed him, slowed, and stopped on the road's shoulder. The chick
slid over on the seat, rolling down the window on the passenger's side and shouting
to him.
"Hurry up, you idiot. I don't want to sit here much longer."
He ran to the car, pulling open the door to get in. She slammed it shut again, and
Stevie stood there confused.
"What the hellтАФ"
"Shut up," she snapped, handing him another pink fact-sheet. "Read this. And
hurry it up."
He read the factsheet. His throat went dry and he began to feel a buzz in his head.