"Gagne, Stefan - Haven Borne" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gagne Stefan)

out of the network and go home to their own beds. Real beds, with actual
feather pillows and mattresses with springs. All Number Two got was a hard
cot made out of a simple rectangular polygon. This was all he ever could
get.

He wasn't particularly liked by his co-workers. He was treated like a
menial robot, just another program to order around, not like a normal human
being with sentient thoughts. "Number Two, give me that data unit." "Number
Two, sort these database entries alphanumerically." "Number Two, reach that
book for me." The strain was getting to him.

At first, he had worked with employee management, perusing files and
looking for weak links in the security chain. That's what he did best after
all, weeding out information and keeping secrets, because that was what he
was programmed to do. Then someone in the E-M office found out he was just
an artificial intelligence construct and complained about working with
nonexistent people. It was a choice between the complainer quitting and
Number Two being placed in a different office. The one with actual flesh
won.

It's not as if a fight wasn't put up. The only person in this
corporation who particularly liked Number Two was the president himself,
William Doors, who had salvaged him from the wreck of the first VOS system
and placed him in a high position of the corporation, recognizing Two's
skills. Doors didn't seem to care that Number Two was a construct. He
didn't treat him as an object of study, or something to be awed by, or
something to fear. He treated him, well, normal.

Which is why it was so difficult to quit.

Number Two walked silently into William Doors' simulated office,
stepping somberly towards the ornate oak texture mapped desk. William
didn't notice him enter, still busy writing a thesis on the effects of VOS
on the human mind. Number Two tapped the table.

William looked up. Number Two took resign.txt out from behind his
back, and dropped it on the desk.

Without a word, William picked up the note, unfolded it carefully,
and read. A slight frown played out on his face.

"Why, Number Two?" he asked.

"Don't misunderstand, old friend," Two said. "It's not your fault.
You have been most fair in my stay at your fine company. I just need a
change of pace. I feel that my talents aren't of much use here."

"I know you better than that, Two," William said. "You're hardly
useless around here. Before people found out you were a construct, you were
one of our top employees."