"FWLS12" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

you can say language device. It's a special service the Buggl 'n
Whack provides so that nobody has to hear a bad poem; if yours
starts going sour, a sniper plugs you with a dart and you wake up
the next morning with the drug charges subtracted from your
check. I had a reputation for not getting the dart ONCE, and had
to maintain it.

Wait...

Alright. Inspiration! Someone ought to find out what
particle causes this and bottle it. They'd make millions.
Scribble, scribble, scribble... no need for legible handwriting,
as I'm the only person that'll ever read it.

Scribble, scribble scribble.

Scribble scribble pause... scribble scribble cross-out
cross-out scribble scribble DONE. Shorthand's grand, and rhymes
too.

"Come ON!" Eroki begged, tugging at my identical green
sleeve. "Let's go dance!"

"Can't tonight, Wunnykins," I said, kissing her briefly on
the cheek. "Gotta go do my poem."

"Poo," she pouted, slumping back into the Peasluvdope's
booth and sulking.

"Someone's gotta pay the checks," I shrugged. "It's not as
slack as I'd like, but it's as slack as any job can get."

"See you back at the pad?" she queried, brightening up.

"Got nowhere better ta go. Hey, Benson!"

"Yeah?" he said, looking up from his code.

"Gotta motor. And drink less of that coffee, willya? The
house brand here'll render you sterile," I joked. Benson rolled
his eyes at me and continued tapping.

*

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Brainstiles, for you lovely but cut
short poem. We'll see him up and about in a few hours, folks,
then you can heckle him," the host joked. He used the same joke
after every launching of the dart. The regular sniper has
threatened occasionally to dart HIM if he uses the same lame joke
again, but knows he'd get fired for darting the staff.