"FWLS62" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

A Future We'd Like to See 1.62 - Red and White Night
By Stefan "Twoflower" Gagne (Copyright 1994)

Liberation is accepting that you're nothing but shit.

That's what I am; excrement. Evil in nature and deed just
because it's the only thing I'm good at. Society, on the whole,
would be better off without me, but I'm not gonna go kill myself.
That would be too easy. If society is going to cut away the
cancer, it has to do it itself. I am a cancer; I've accepted
everything I am, all the bile, the gristle and the dirt. It's a
relief to have all the problems in your life cured in one fell
swoop, that glorious tone of acceptance to the fears that you've
had for years.

I consider myself well adjusted, even if most psychiatric
opinion would claim I'm insane beyond insane. I guess on their
metersticks I am, but by the Generik Evil stick I'm actually
quite tame. Some stuff the higher-ups in the chain of anarchy do
make my stomach turn.

The red and white lights of the ambulance flashing away into
the night made my stomach turn. Always the aftermath, not the
act; the act is pretty quick and relatively boring, but knowing
what you've done and seeing what results is sickening. I usually
just go home after a night on the town, but tonight I wanted to
know. Never leave a job unfinished.

She was only eighteen. If I had known... well, I probably
would have done it anyway, just because that's what I am. I
don't have a choice in the matter because I'm don't resist it.
It's my nature.

The crowd gathered, because all the world loves a good
spectacle, around the police tape lines. Police. What a joking
term. C'atel's police barely could handle cats stuck up in
trees. They usually contracted out to the Not-So-Secret-Agent
Corporation when they had specialty problems, since cops're only
good at filling out forms.

The emergency staff, however, has more training and had
arrived at the alley before the cops did. Crack guys, those
people. Biotech's a boon to lifesaving. I figured she should be
okay, which isn't that good, because it meant I was going easy on
her. It meant being merciful, which wasn't me.

Well, this can be handled, I thought, fingering the hard
object in my coat pocket. The medics, neatly clad in their red
and white coats, wheeled her stained and shredded form out,
whistling away, the cheery little bastards, thinking they'd have