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

But the only new message was from Skaka Gupta: Please call me at the lab. Important.
The transmission time was only ten minutes ago. She had returned early to Boston, and was
working very late.
"Skaka? Allan Haller. What's going on?"
"Hello, Allan." She sounded tired, as well she might. It was half past one. "I didn't expect to
hear from you till morning. But you might as well know now. We've had a temporary set-back."
"What kind of set-back?"
"The robots have stopped functioning. No, that's not true -- they only look like they're not
functioning because they're not gathering chips any more, as they were programmed to do.
Instead, they've speeded up massively the amounts of data they're pulling off the Net, and
processing it in parallel non-stop. And they're ... " Her voice stumbled.
"They're what?"
"They're just huddled together in a ring, touching sides, their visual and auditory and
infrared sensors shut down. Just huddled there, blind to their environment."
He didn't answer. After a minute, Skaka's tone changed, and Allan realized for the first time
that, despite her glossy competence, she really was a scientist and not an information-front
soldier. No entrepreneur would have said, as she did next, "Allan -- I know your firm is small,
and that you've invested a lot of money in Novation. We can get another grant, but if this
project flops, are we going to bring you down?"
"Don't worry about it. We'll be all right," Allan said, which was true. He wasn't ever insane
enough to commit all of his resources to the same battle.
Commit all of his resources to the same battle ...
"That's good," Skaka said. "But it doesn't touch the real issue. Allan, I don't know what the
bots are doing."
"I do," he said, but so softly she couldn't hear him. Dazed, he managed to get out, "It's
late. Talk in the morning." He cut the connection.
And sat on the edge of the bed, naked legs dangling over the side, staring at nothing.
Commit all of his resources to the same battle ... That's what they all had been doing.
Many different skirmishes -- solar panels, robots, high-resolution imaging, nanotech, smart
autos -- but all part of the same war. Stone Age, Bronze Age, Age of Chivalry, Space Age ...
Information Age. The only game in town, the scene of all the action, the all-embracing war.
Uncle Sam Wants You!
But no age lasted forever. Eventually the struggle for bronze or gold or green chips -- or
for physical or digital terrain -- would come to an end, just as all the other Ages eventually
had. One succeeding the other, inexorable and unstoppable ... When it's steamship time,
went the old saw, then nothing can stop the steamship from coming. And when the Age of
Steam was over, it was over. Civilization was no longer driven by steam. Now it was driven by
information. Gather it in, willy-nilly, put it in electronic buckets, give it to the owners. Or the
generals.
Why?
What if they gave a war and nobody came?
That's why the robots had stopped. That's why they stood staring into space, only their
brains active. They had at their command all the data on the Net, plus the
complex-and-growing human neural circuits of their biochips. They were on top of it all, wired
in, fully cued for the next stage. Not how can we gather those chips with max-effish but
rather why should we gather chips at all?
Not the Age of Reason. The Reasons Age.
Things changed. One day steam, then steam is over. One day you can't imagine wanting to
kiss a girl, the next day you pant after it. One day you rely on your frontier neighbors for
survival of your very home, the next day you don't know your neighbors' names and don't