"Edward M. Lerner - Presence of Mind" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lerner Edward M)

Presence of Mind
by Edward M. Lerner
When new capabilities create new dangers, there are two ways to respond....

Chapter 1
Thwock.
The bright red ball rebounded with a most satisfying sound, although the racquet continued on its arc
without any apparent impact. Doug Carey hurriedly wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his
racquetless left arm, carefully keeping his begoggled eyes on the ball. Precisely as he'd intended, the ball
passed through a translucent green rectangle suspended in the vertical plane that bisected the court. The
ball instantly doubled its speed.
Across the court, his opponent grunted as he lunged. Jim Schulz caught the ball on the tip of his
racquet and expertly flipped the orb back through the green region. The ball redoubled its speed. Doug
swore as he dived in vain after the ball. It swept past him, obliquely grazed the floor, and careened first
from the rear wall and then from a side wall. The ball winked out of existence as it fell once again,
untouched by Doug's racquet, to the floor. тАЬGood one,тАЭ he panted.
Jim waved his racquet in desultory acknowledgment, his T-shirt sodden with sweat. тАЬPull,тАЭ he called
out, and a new red ball materialized from the ether. Jim smacked the ball to the court's mid-plane, just
missing the drifting triple-speed purple zone. The unaccelerated serve was a cream puff; Doug ruthlessly
slammed it through purple on his return. A red blur shot past Jim to a brown тАЬdead zoneтАЭ on the rear
wall, from which the suddenly inert ball dropped like a brick. This ball, too, disappeared.
тАЬRoll тАШem.тАЭ Yet another red ball appeared, again in midair, this time at Doug's invocation. He twisted
the racquet as he stroked the ball, imparting a wicked spin. The serve curved its way across the court,
rebounding oddly from the floor and side wall.
Not oddly enough. Jim pivoted gracefully, tracking the ball around the rear corner. He stepped
behind the ball as it sailed off the back wall, from which position he casually backhanded it. The ball
soared lazily to midcourt, aimed squarely at a drop-dead zone scant inches from the floor.
Doug dashed to center court, ignoring an alert tone as he crossed the warning line on the floor. He
desperately swung his racquet into the slight clearance between the vertical brown region and the floor.
He misjudged slightly: the body of the racquet swept effortlessly through the court's vertical bisection
plane, but the handle struck with a thud. A loud blat of disapproval disapproval drowned out his sharp
intake of breath, but not the jolt of pain that shot up his arm. All but the offending handle vanished as he
dropped the racquet. тАЬDamn, that smarts!тАЭ
тАЬYou OK?тАЭ
Doug grimaced in response, rubbing his left hand against his right forearm just below the elbow. He
pressed a thumb into a seeming birthmark on the forearm, and was rewarded with a subcutaneous click.
тАЬI think we're done for today. Don't watch if you're feeling squeamish.тАЭ The words, forced between
clamped teeth, indicated his distress. He grasped firmly with his left hand, and twisted. The right forearm
popped off, to be placed gently onto the court floor. Doug massaged the shocked area vigorously. тАЬTo
coin a phrase, ouch.тАЭ
Jim walked to center court, beads of sweat running down his face and glistening in his lop-sided
mustache. He sported possibly the last long sideburns within western civilization. тАЬAnything I can do?тАЭ
тАЬUh-uh.тАЭ The answer was distracted.
His friend pointed at the numerals glowing on the ceiling. тАЬTwelve to ten, pretty close. Let's pick up
there next time. I'll call you tonight. Abracadabra.тАЭ The last phrase was directed at the court, not Doug.
Jim disappeared as thoroughly as had the out-of-play balls earlier, but with the added touch of a puff of
white smoke.
тАЬAbracadabra,тАЭ Doug agreed. Jim's half of the room promptly vanished, revealing at what had been
center court the wall that had so rudely interrupted the game. He studied the quarter-inch-deep gouge in
the plasterboard that indicated by how much his depth perception had failed him. Virtual racquetball with