"James Patrick Kelly - Fruitcake Theory" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kelly James Patrick)

the morning, Maggie. Not even Hack Bumbledom is funny at
two-thirty in the morning."
"Want me to pick you up some fruitcake? ItТs full of
information."
"This could be big." She brushes snow off my shoulder.
"IТll be in the security office."
Followers and their families are scattered strategically
around the room. When we take roosters on field trips,
we try to minimize their access to the mundane world. If
we can, we clear a site completely; otherwise we drop by
unannounced and late at night. WeТre in and out before
the media and the Kuvat chasers and the oddjobs arrive.
There are a few civilians shopping at this ungodly hour,
and of course the staff of all the stores are mundanes,
but weТve got good coverage.
The Live Night Mall is "Y" shaped. Ribbons of light hang
from its vaulted glass ceiling; they shiver in the warm
breeze that blows from the ventilators. Each of the arms
is lined with the usual assortment of shops selling
games, infodumps, shoes, T-shirts, ties, hats,
kitchenware, software, artware, candy, toys, candles,
perfumes and pheromones. You can get a skin tint, a hair
style, or walk-in liposuction. At the end of each of its
arms is an anchor store, a Sears & Penny, a Food Chief,
and a Home Depot. The three arms come together in a
vast, garish, and noisy cluster of fast food
storefronts. Bjorn might be right about the number of
ethnics; I donТt think IТve ever seen Icelandic in a
mall before. At the hub of the mall there must be a
couple of hundred round tables. The surfaces of each are
screens tuned to themed cable stations. Even though the
place is pretty much deserted, itТs still filled with
the ghostly mutter of news and sitcoms and cartoons. IТm
expecting to spot the rooster here somewhere but all I
can see is a handful of followers and a Santa nodding
over a latte. Kevin Darcy pushes his sleeping
four-year-old by me in a stroller and murmurs, "Sears
and Penny."
So I pick my way through the maze of tables. As I pass
Santa, he shoots out of his chair.
"Where did you come from?"
"Home," I say and try to get by.
"No, you didnТt." He pushes in front of me. "YouТre a
stranger. Who are all these people?"
"This the mall, friend. WeТre all strangers here."
"Not at my mall, youТre not," he said.
"Listen, why donТt you take the rest of the night off?"
I flip open my wallet and give him a good look at the
ID. "IТll bet youТre tired. IТll clear it with your
boss."