"FWLS43" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

utilized a force sword and separated every organ, limb, muscle,
and bone."

I tried laughing, but couldn't. "You get the feeling that
maybe we should LEAVE him dead?"

"He's worth more than you, fifteen million times over. It's
not that simple. Now patch him up. You'll get your obscenely
large payment again, as promised."

*

This was getting monotonous.

I had to hand-attach every part to every other part. Orders
were placed, shipments were made. A few innocent unknowns were
forced to contribute anything I couldn't find. This rocker now
had about twenty of his fans in him.

He came to, out of the sleep, muttering about boredom. Then
he snapped awake.

"I don't believe this," he muttered. "Don't you ever GIVE
UP?!?!"

"I'm being paid, you know," I said. "I gotta keep you
alive. You're the cultural icon of this decade, you know."

"It's... FRANTIC!" he screamed. "The tours, the orders, the
signing. I have arthritis. I have arthritis and I'm only TWENTY
SIX, for crying outloud!"

"Yeah, life is hell. Here, get your pants on."

"You SEEM reasonable," he said. "Come on. Let me die.
It's GREAT over there. It's just so boring... nobody asks you to
do anything, you never have to do anything, you never do
anything. You're just... in harmony. It's nice, man. I want to
go there again. They're beginning to ask why I keep leaving, you
know. Last thing you need is some angel with a chip on his
shoulder knocking on your door."

Hmm, genuine evidence of an afterlife. I considered phoning
up the local tabloid, but there were more pressing matters ahead.

"I'm just doing my job," I said. "I like my work. I enjoy
the challenge. But I don't like to get the same crap over and
over again. You're a cramp on my style, kid. Can't you STAY
fucking DEAD for once?! The Dirty Dozen aren't known for having
regulars!"