"Charles L. Harness-George Washington Slept Here" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harness Charles L)

including himself.
He watched the recessed code lights on the tiny reader panel. He was getting some interesting
readings from Barton Badging. His opponent was hiding something. I fear you have not led a lily-white
professional life, Mr. Badging. But you're a featherweight compared to what we're getting from
Maximum Max. The man was totally corrupt. Have to get back to him. But the judge wasn't the
immediate problem. He could cope with corruption. The real trouble was with his client.
Sena wasn't registering at all.
It wasn't a questions of under- or overreacting. It was much worse. The tekt-x simply wasn't picking
up any readings from her body. Nothing whatsoever. A marble statue would show more activity.
Perhaps the laser net was defective in her direction? He gave the box a quarter turn. Still nothing. He
rotated the instrument back. As he did this, he saw she was watching him from the corner of her eye.
Ah, he thought. She's taking it all in. She knows what the tekt-x does. She knows she doesn't register.
Now what?
"Sorry," she whispered. "I'll turn it on."
The little lights assigned to her suddenly lit up. The base lines for all her vitals showed absolutely
normal: pulse, 70; b.p., 125 over 65; respiration, 16; perspiration normal; no voice stress. As if to
compensate for her zero emotional level, his own light panel began to flash. His pulse, blood pressure,
and galvanic skin index readings were jumping off the register. He had stopped breathing, but now his
chest was beginning to work again.
"Could I give you a tranquilizer?" she whispered.
"I'm... okay."
No. He wouldn't believe it. Somehow, the little machine had malfunctioned. They do that. These
modern electronic marvels... when they work, they work beautifully. But when they don't, everything
comes apart. Maybe a short somewhere. Have the technicians check it out. Seems to be working fine
now. I overreacted. What's the matter with me? This woman is insane. How did I get roped into this?
Fen was never stupid. Why did he take it? Money probably. And now I've got it, and I've got some kind
of duty to this madwoman. The county asylum is supposed to be around here somewhere. Maybe we'll
all be in it before this is over.
For the next hour he listened to the drone of the enemy expert, as prodded and led by Badging.
"Now, Dr. Davis, you have heard Plaintiff's testimony that pressure alters the morphology of rocks and
minerals?" said Badging.
"Yes, sir."
"Is that a danger here?"
"Not at all."
"Why not?"
"It is only extreme pressures that alter the characteristics of materials. At ten thousand atmospheres
mercury solidifies at room temperature. At slightly greater pressures, boiling water solidifies, and graphite
changes to diamond. At one hundred thousand atmospheres iron becomes non-magnetic. At slightly
under one million atmospheres spinel is squeezed into perovskite. All these transformations are readily
achieved in a diamond anvil pressure cell, and they all involve reductions in volume. However, such
transformations cannot possibly take place under the pressures resulting from the west cantilever, the
so-called 'George' tower."
"What is the average pressure on the George tower area?" asked Badging.
"Less that sixty pounds per square inch-- about four atmospheres."
Sena bent over to Potts. "It's not the average pressure that's critical-- it's the total weight. And they
will indeed exceed that."
"Noted," whispered her lawyer. "We'll put you back on for that point during rebuttal." (If we get that
far, he said to himself.)
"Your witness," said Badging.
Potts faced the expert. "Just now, Dr. Davis, you have offered considerable engineering data as to the