"Sergey Lukjanenko - Labyrinth Of Reflections" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lukjanenko Sergey)

It's almost always evening in Deeptown. The streets are lit by the
bright light of neon signs, cars softly growl scudding along the streets,
and people move in neverending stream. Twenty-five million of permanent
inhabitants: the biggest megapolis in the world. Faces can't be seen from
the height of eleventh floor. I finish my Sprite and throw the can down
returning into the room.
- Not ethical... - mutters the computer. Ignoring it I leave the room,
put on my shoes and open the door. The staircase is empty and brightly lit,
very-very clean. While I deal with the lock, the tiny bug tries to fly in
through the half opened door. Oh well, lamers are having their fun. With
irony I watch the persistent insect - the steady flow of air blows from the
apartment pushing the bug back out... Finally the door is closed, the bug
knocks against it in the last effort, a short flash - and it falls on the
floor.
- Should I file the complaint to the landlord? - asks Windows-Home. Now
the voice comes from silver clips on my shirt's collar.
- Go ahead - I agree. I always forget to explain to the program that
the landlord is myself.
The elevator waits for me. Usually I use the stairs... peeking inside
other apartments along the way. Nobody lives there anyway... but now I'm in
hurry. The elevator goes down - very fast. I pad out into the street, look
around, maybe the insect lover is still near? But there's nobody suspicious
nearby, everybody mind their own business. The bug was a passer by
obviously, a serial work. These are being crushed on the streets,
exterminated in the apartments but they keep coming.
I was having this fun too in my time, it was extremely seldom when
those bugs managed to bring any interesting info.
- Lenia, the complaint from tenant #1 was received by the "Polyana"
company.
I mumble, - Ignore it, - watching the man that walks along the street.
Gee, this is something! The mixture of younger Arnold Shwarzenegger and
older Clint Eastwood. Very funny. The man notices my sarcastic look and
walks faster.
I raise my hand and the yellow limo stops by the sidewalk in an
instant.
- Lenia, your complaint was ignored!
- Nevermind...
This can go forever, but I have no time for games now... I get into the
car, the driver, a smiling guy with the perfect hairdo dressed in starched
shirt, turns to me. I prefer this type of drivers: well trained and brief
ones.
- Deep-Transit Company is glad to welcome you!
He doesn't say the name - the program stopped the taxi anonymously.
- How will you pay?
- Like this, - I say getting the revolver out of my pocket and hit the
guy on the temple really hard. He tries to block me but it's too late. I
look at his pale face, shook him by the collar and order:
- Al-Kabar block.
- This address doesn't exist - says the driver. He's knocked out and
conquered.