"Alex Irvine - Shambhala" - читать интересную книгу автора (Irvine Alexander C)

ecosystems mean that as a civilization you're moving backward instead of forward. It doesn't happen all
at once, not like flipping a switch; but you can look back when you're on the downhill slide, and you can
see when it happened. Fate grants you that moment of knowledge and introspection on your way down.

On the Brain Board, red starts to replace the yellow.

Then the power goes out.
somewhere in the virt
Arthritis? Plantar fasciitis? Bunions? All of these terms come to Shannon like random vocabulary from a
language she hasn't spoken in decades. Limping on her sore foot, she starts asking around. In the
Grounds for Excommunication coffeeshop, everyone complains of strange pains and inexplicable
emotional disturbances. They look at her expectantly, and she admits her foot pain. This seems to satisfy
them. All of a sudden one of them says, "I think I need to take a walk," and out he goes into the sunlight.
When someone in the coffeeshop crowd notes that he's not casting a shadow, a murmur passes through
them. What's going on here?

She goes outside to check, and sure enough, she's not casting a shadow either. But she's not transparent.
Uh oh, she thinks. Errors have propagated before, but the Virt has always been resilient enough to layer
over them before Virtizens know they exist--especially the natives, who aren't as quick to pick up on little
quirks. Now several of the personae goggling at the missing shadows are natives, which is ominous. As is
the fact of the missing shadows all by itself. A little shiver prickles Shannon's spine. Did she port over to a
PU space and have the decision wiped? Only an Avirtar would know, and they're not very
communicative at the moment.

The conclusion that presents itself is troubles in meatspace. Not supposed to happen, she thinks; the Virt
is self-sustaining, the redundancies and robustness of Shambhala relentlessly trumpeted. That was why
she decided to make the move, because people she trusted told her it was safe.

How much time has passed in the world? she wonders--and starts to call up the information, but then
decides she doesn't want to know, even if the Virt is able to tell her.

Around her, she notices that people are starting to flow in a single direction, and the sight makes her feel
like she ought to go that way too. Before she does, though, she thinks it might be a good idea to check in
on things down there in the physical world. She walks in the opposite direction.
somewhere on earth
Mike Chancey is looking over his shoulder as he welds together the newest security shells he's built
around his clandestine channel. Invincible, according to his phalanx of Nerds-in-excelsis, but recent
events have made him mistrustful. He runs checks, realizes that he doesn't know enough about the nuts
and bolts of his own system to interpret the results, and goes ahead.

"Abe," he says. "I don't know if you're listening, but there are problems here. It would help if you could
let me know what you're seeing."

He waits, but his son does not answer. Mike is looking at losing his job for sure if his security isn't quite
as bulletproof as he thinks it is, but while there may be good reasons for preventing any but essential
communications between the Virt and the world, those reasons aren't good enough right now.

"Abe," he says. "Talk to me."

But Abe isn't talking, and it isn't smart to keep this channel open for very long. Mike walks the corridors