"Greg Egan - Neighbourhood Watch" - читать интересную книгу автора (Egan Greg)

There are kids dumb enough to pay for those, down at the primary school. Only
those who break the law, says the contract. A list of statutes is provided,
to be precise. Parking offences, breaking the speed limit and cheating on
income tax are not included; decent people are only human, after all.
Breaking and entering is there, though, and stealing, well, that dates right
back to the old stone tablets. No loophole, Andrew. No argument. Andrew has a
flick knife, and a death's head tattoo. He's great in a fight, our Andrew.
Knows some karate, once did a little boxing, he has no reason to be afraid.
He walks around like he owns the night. Especially when there's nobody
 around. So what's that on the wind? Sounds like someone breathing, someone
close by. Very even, slow, steady, powerful. Where is the bastard? You can
see in all directions, but there's no one in sight. What, then? Do you think
it's in your head? That doesn't seem likely. Andrew stands still for a
moment. He wants to figure this out for himself, but I can't help giving him
hints, so the lace of his left sand-shoe comes undone. He puts down the jar
and crouches to retie it. The ground, it seems, is breathing. Andrew frowns.
He's not happy about this. He puts one ear against the footpath, then pulls
his head away, startled by the sound's proximity. Under that slab of paving,
he could swear. A gas leak! Fuck it, of course. A gas leak, or something like
that. Something mechanical. An explanation. Pipes, water, gas, pumps, shit,
who knows? Yeah. There's a whole world of machinery just below the street,
enough machinery to explain anything. But it felt pretty strange for a while
there, didn't it? He picks up the jar. The paving slab vibrates. He plants a
foot on it, to suggest that it stays put, but it does not heed his weight. I
toss it gently into the air, knocking him aside into somebody's ugly letter
box. The contract is singing to me now. Ah, blessed, beautiful document! I
hear you. Did I ever truly resent you? Surely not! For to kill with you as my
accomplice, even once, is sweeter by far than the grossest bloodbath I can
dream of, without your steady voice, your calm authority, your proud mask of
justice. Forgive me! In the daylight I am a different creature, irritable and
weak. Now we are in harmony, now we are in blissful accord. Our purposes are
one. Sing on! Andrew comes forward cautiously, sniffing for gas, a little
uneasy but determined to view the comprehensible cause. A deep, black hole.
He squats beside it, leans over, strains his eyes but makes out nothing. I
inhale. Mrs Bold has come to see me. She is Chairman of the local Citizens
Against Crime, those twelve fine men and women from whose dreams (chiefly,
but not exclusively) I was formed. They've just passed a motion
congratulating me (and hence themselves) on a successful first month.
Burglaries, says Mrs Bold, have plummeted. тАЬThe initial contract, you
understand, is only for three months, but I'm almost certain we'll want to
extend it. There's a clause allowing for that, one month at a time.тАЭ тАЬBoth
parties willing.тАЭ тАЬOf course. We were all of us determined that the contract
be scrupulously fair. You mustn't think of yourself as our slave.тАЭ тАЬI
don't.тАЭ тАЬYou're our business associate. We all agreed from the start that that
was the proper relationship. But you do like it here, don't you?тАЭ тАЬVery
much.тАЭ тАЬWe can't increase the payment, you know. Six thousand a month, well,
we've really had to scrape to manage that much. Worth every cent, of course,
but тАж тАЭ That's a massive lie, of course: six thousand is the very least they
could bring themselves to pay me. Anything less would have left them
wondering if they really owned me. The money helps them trust me, the money