"FWLS49" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

gonna do, almost like reading your mind, which isn't too far from
the truth. He explained it to me one day in between runs into
the city, how he samples little details and forms prediction
tables about behaviors, but I guess you just have to be into that
stuff to get it.

Me, Benton, I'm an artist. Art is one of the less-respected
departments of High High, which stresses mental activity that
involves digits and factoids. Supposedly I've got this wildly
symbolic vision that sculpts pure ideas into material form... at
least that's what Mr. Higgins (the Amazing Bald Wonder) claims.
Me, I just put some junk together and let them sort it out. I
don't think the treatments HH gives affect me. Maybe one of
these days they'll realize I'm not smart and kick me out.

Now, the careers we're studying for are terrific pursuits
and will probably get us big houses and fast ships in the future,
but right now we want to have FUN. And the only place for that
is the city.

I always wear my HH uniform for city runs. I find it to be
a good terror device, since city dwellers everywhere know that
the only things that follow High High brats are war, death,
famine, plague, sitcoms, etc. etc. etc. It's a simple outfit,
really... a blue shirt with the 'Oppenheimer School of Higher
Order Thinking and Mental Development' logo printed on the back,
and matching pants. Girls wear a similar blouse and a long
skirt. They don't bother with ties or suits; outward appearances
should mean little, humble outfits are enough. Of course, I
don't follow that, so I'm wearing my leather jacket as well with
the neat flaming skull on the back.

Jody's land rover pulled up, rolling along on two of its
wheels, tilted at some absurd angle. She twisted the wheel,
slamming down the other two wheels and swinging a tight ninety
into my driveway. She leaned on the horn.

I took a quick check in the mirror to make sure I didn't
look like a dog, and hopped out the window, swinging down the
monofilament cord I always kept tied to the gutter.

(You'll notice us students are a bit show-offy. High High
insists on using your cranium to the fullest, pushing that
intelligence envelope in every activity. Of course, they
probably meant we should read more books or do volunteer work at
some big corporation for MORE busywork, but the kids interpret
the rule one other way; you've got a mind, use it to look as
impressive as possible. I hear jocks do the same thing with
their muscles.)