"Nancy Kress - Steamship Soldier on the Information Front" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kress Nancy)

but he owned pieces of a lot of outposts where the front shifted abruptly and unpredictably.
That was the nature of fronts. So why was he so upset?
He didn't know. And there was no time to think about it. His next flight left in forty-two
minutes.
Just enough time study the information for tomorrow's 6:30 breakfast meeting.


Cathy and Allan finally connected in New York; she had an unexpected re-route in her
schedule. As he entered the elevator, Allan felt his chest tighten. Ten days since he'd last
seen his wife! And oh, how he'd missed her ... and how he loved the giddy excitement of their
reunions. Surely couples who were together all the time couldn't get this excited.
Nor was he disappointed. Afterward, lying together on the big hotel bed, dreamily watching
the wall program shade from hectic red to cool soft blues (it must be keyed to their
breathing), Allan felt utterly content.
Cathy, however, didn't let him drift long. "Honey, there's something we need to talk about.
It's Charlie."
Immediately Allan's mood changed. He hiked himself up against the pillows. "How did he
seem in Los Angeles?"
"Strange." Cathy hesitated. "I know he's on the edge of adolescence, trying his wings,
some hostility to be expected blah blah blah ... but he wasn't hostile. He was just as nice to
Suzette as ever, really thrilled for her when she won. And he wasn't at all secretive with me.
It's just that he's gone off in such strange directions in his personal interests. For instance, he
talked a lot about the Age of Reason and its social implications."
"Just a sec," Allan said. He reached for the meshNet, crumpled with the rest of his clothes
on the floor by his bed, and did a Quik-Chek. Age of Reason: an eighteenth-century period of
great intellectual awareness and activity, characterized by questioning of authority,
emphasis on the experimental method in science, and creative self-determination in arts,
culture, and politics.
"I could have told you what it was," Cathy said, nettled.
"I know." Cathy was a lawyer; she would have gone into far more well-organized particulars
than Allan wanted. "But it's just history, right? An interest in history doesn't sound so bad. In
fact, Charlie said something or other to me about Robert Fulton and the steamship. Maybe
Mrs. Canning started a new school unit."
"No, I checked. They're still concentrating on earth sciences. But that's not all. I accessed
Charlie's Twenty-Two -- the personal-notes tablet, but only the unencrypted part, of course
-- and he -- "
"He's still using a Twenty-Two? Good Lord, that computer's been obsolete for at least three
months! I'll send him a new one -- there's something much better coming out now."
Cathy said acidly, "There's always something much better coming out. But that's not the
point, Allan. What I found on Charlie's tablet were lists of 'ages.' All the lists were subtly
different, but there were dozens of them."
"What do you mean, 'ages'?"
"Stone Age. Iron Age. Age of Heroes. Age of Faith. Dark Ages. Age of Reason. Industrial
Age. Space Age. Information Age. That one's always last on every list, presumably because
we're in it now. Dozens of different lists!"
"Odd," Allan said, because it was clear she expected him to say something. "But, frankly,
Cath, it doesn't sound dangerous. So he's wondering about history. That's good, isn't it?"
 "Exhibit Three: When I asked him about the lists, he didn't get angry that I'd been snooping
in his tablet. Instead, he looked at me in that intense way he has, not moving a single facial
muscle -- you know how he is -- and said, 'Mom, how do we know that our family is really