"(astrid_julian)-blowup" - читать интересную книгу автора (Julian Astrid)

Looking down they can't see us at all"

It was sickening to watch the fans reach forward to touch Jimmy St. August, or
his pant leg or his shoe, or whatever else they could grab when he danced out to
the edge of the stage.

The camera angle cut back to St. August alone, filling the TV screen of the
conference room with his face. Charlotte Glass was repulsed at how St. August
mesmerized the professionals gathered around the table. The various scientists
and administrators were supposed to spend the next week guiding the Presidential
Commission through Moon Station, not collecting St. August autographs.

Black foam padding from the microphone obscud St. August's mouth. Only his eyes,
dark and intense, stared back out through the glass.

"Really, Charlotte," said a round-faced man wearing a wrinkled blue and green
plaid shirt. "He's not Hitler."

Michael Carter would defend the video, Charlotte thought.

"He means well," Carter added.

He saw only jubilation as the Greens celebrated the closing of the Blind River
nuclear power plant on Lake Huron, the last nuclear power plant in North
America. Wasn't he listening to the lyrics they were singing? Carter was such a
science nerd, too absorbed in his work to take in what this band of fun-loving
environmentalists had in mind for Moon Station. She would spell it out to him
later.

"Sorry. A mob always brings out the worst in me." No matter how innocent St.
August's lyrics sounded with their appeals for world peace and for sharing world
resources, the sexual throb of his guitar was a cry for power. Raw power.
Corrupt power. Couldn't they see how he savored playing Jesus to the masses? It
was so obvious, they shouldn't be able to miss it. But then, none of the rest of
them had gone to high school with rock superstar Jimmy St. August.

Time to get out of here, before she told them what she really thought of their
hero. "Look, I've got to pick up some ice samples on my way back to Station, so
I'm going to ride a scooter out," Charlotte told them. "I'll see you all out at
the landing crater."

The crescent Earth with its polluting billions plunged an angry talon into t he
clean, black, star-encrusted sky at the edge of the horizon. Charlotte Glass
slammed the golden visor down over her faceplate and shoved the scooter into
gear. Jimmy St. August, bad-boy fuck-up of Lakewood High School Class of 2023,
was coming to the Moon.

It wasn't fair.