"Greg Egan - The Moral Virologist" - читать интересную книгу автора (Egan Greg)

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Soon! THE MORAL VIROLOGIST The Moral
Virologist Greg Egan Out on the street, in the dazzling
sunshine of a warm Atlanta morning, a dozen young children were
playing. Chasing, wrestling, and hugging each other, laughing and
yelling, crazy and jubilant for no other reason than being alive on
such a day. Inside the gleaming white building, though, behind
double-glazed windows, the air was slightly chilly - the way John
Shawcross preferred it - and nothing could be heard but the
air-conditioning, and a faint electrical hum. The schematic of the
protein molecule trembled very slightly. Shawcross grinned, already
certain of success. As the pH displayed in the screen's top left
crossed the critical value - the point at which, according to his
calculations, the energy of conformation B should drop below that of
conformation A - the protein suddenly convulsed and turned completely
inside-out. It was exactly as he had predicted, and his binding studies
had added strong support, but to see the transformation (however complex
the algorithms that had led from reality to screen) was naturally the most
satisfying proof. He replayed the event, backwards and forwards
several times, utterly captivated. This marvellous device would easily
be worth the eight hundred thousand he'd paid for it. The salesperson
had provided several impressive demonstrations, of course, but this was
the first time Shawcross had used the machine for his own work. Images
of proteins in solution! Normal X-ray diffraction could only work with
crystalline samples, in which a molecule's configuration often bore
little resemblance to its aqueous, biologically relevant, form. An
ultrasonically stimulated semi-ordered liquid phase was the key, not to
mention some major breakthroughs in computing; Shawcross couldn't
follow all the details, but that was no impediment to using the
machine. He charitably wished upon the inventor Nobel Prizes in
chemistry, physics and medicine; viewed the stunning results of his
experiment once again, then stretched, rose to his feet, and went out
in search of lunch. On his way to the delicatessen, he passed that
bookshop, as always. A lurid new poster in the window caught his eye: a
naked young man stretched out on a bed in a state of postcoital
languor, one corner of the sheet only just concealing his groin.
Emblazoned across the top of the poster, in imitation of a glowing red
neon sign, was the book's title: A Hot Night's Safe Sex. Shawcross
shook his head in anger and disbelief. What was wrong with people?
Hadn't they read his advertisement? Were they blind? Stupid? Arrogant?
Safety lay only in the obedience of God's laws. After eating, he
called in at a newsagent that carried several foreign papers. The
previous Saturday's editions had arrived, and his advertisement was in
all of them, where necessary translated into the appropriate languages.
Half a page in a major newspaper was not cheap anywhere in the world,
but then, money had never been a problem. ADULTERERS! SODOMITES!
REPENT AND BE SAVED! ABANDON YOUR WICKEDNESS NOW OR DIE AND