"FWLS48" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)of many who wanted me dead.)
"Maybe you'll recognize this," the man said, pressing his hand against the peephole. Through the lens, it was hard to make out, but there was the distinctive green rubber and the TYRELL MODEL SIX stamping. I paused. My location was known; although I loathe social calls and smalltalk, I had better pander. I opened the door. He was there. I SHOULD have recognized him from before, as he was one of the four clients I had before dropping out of the biotech business to pursue dinner. He had on the same LOLLAPALOOZA '92 t-shirt (albeit a bit worn), some 501 blue jeans, and Reebok Pumps. "Tyrell dude! I heard you were in town, and figured I'd stop by," N.M. said, opening his arms for a hug. I stood still. "What do you want, N.M.?" "Nosty to you," N.M. replied, taking back the hug. "Oh, not much. Figured I'd hang loose and chill with my buddyboy doctor type for awhile. Want a Pixie Stick?" you out of here," I said, pulling out my surgery kit. "What, the sucker? Naw! It's working GREAT. I've gathered so much stuff on the twentieth century. All stored perfectly. I'm almost done, too. Just need the Bloom County cartoons, bodice-rippers and the bits about the Information Superhighway." "If it's not broken, leave. I have more important things to do than deal with the Nostalgia Man," I said, urging him out the door. N.M. dropped his normally cheery expression. "Hey, *I* have better things to do than deal with some half-crazed intelligence addict. As much as I like social calls and as much as you hate them, this is business." "What business?" "You're looking for someone," he said, wandering around the hotel room, picking at things. I always hated that. He'd walk around a room, pointing out the twentieth century influences in this object or that. It gets on your nerves. "In the market for the big fish this time, aren't you, Tyrell? Hey, check out the ashtray. Early seventies Jack in the Box style." |
|
|