"James P. Hogan - Giants 1 - Inherit The Stars" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hogan James P)

"Houston...Does that mean we're going there?" Gray asked. "That's right,
Rob." Borlan paused and scratched the side of his nose. His face screwed
itself into a crooked frown. "I, ah -- I was wondering...The installation crew
will need a bit of time, so you two won't be able to do very much there for a
while. Maybe you could spend a few days here first, huh? Like, ah...meet some
of our technical people and clue them in a little on how the scope works --
sorta like a teach-in. What d'you say -- huh?"
Hunt laughed silently inside. Borlan had been complaining to Forsyth-
Scott for months that while the largest potential markets for the scope lay in
the USA, practically all of the know-how was confined to Metadyne; the
American side of the organization needed more in the way of backup and
information than it had been getting.
"You never miss a trick, Felix," he conceded. "Okay, you bum, I'll buy
it."
Borlan's face split into a wide grin.
"This UNSA character you were talking about," Gray said, switching the
subject back again. "What were the examples?"
"Examples?"
"You said he gave some examples of the kind of thing he was interested
in knowing if the scope could do."
"Oh, yeah. Well, lemme see, now...He seemed interested in looking at the
insides of bodies -- bones, tissues, arteries -- stuff like that. Maybe he
wanted to do an autopsy or something. He also wanted to know if you could get
images of what's on the pages of a book, but without the book being opened."
This was too much. Hunt looked from Borlan to Gray and back again,
mystified.
"You don't need anything like a scope to perform an autopsy," he said,
his voice strained with disbelief.
"Why can't he open a book if he wants to know what's inside?" Gray
demanded in a similar tone.
Borlan showed his empty palms. "Yeah. I know. Search me -- sounds
screwy!"
"And UNSA is paying thousands for this?"
"Hundreds of thousands."
Hunt covered his brow and shook his head in exasperation. "Pour me
another scotch, Felix," he sighed.


Chapter Four

A week later the Mercury Three stood ready for takeoff on the rooftop of
IDCC Headquarters. In reply to the queries that appeared on the pilot's
console display screen, Hunt specified the Ocean Hotel in the center of
Houston as their destination. The DEC minicomputer in the nose made contact
with its IBM big brother that lived underground somewhere beneath the Portland
Area Traffic Control Center and, after a brief consultation, announced a
flight plan that would take them via Salt Lake City, Santa Fe, and Fort Worth.
Hunt keyed in his approval, and within minutes the aircar was humming
southeast and climbing to take on the challenge of the Blue Mountains looming
ahead.