"Sean McMullen - The Blondefire Genome" - читать интересную книгу автора (McMullen Sean)

She tossed the inhaler in the air and caught it. "Actually this really is only an asthma inhaler, it's safe. I
gave myself asthma sniffing hundreds of types of pollen for six months. Danny might think smart kids are
nerds, but where his precious skin is concerned, he listens to what nerds say."
"She's a knockout!" said Alex.
"Shuddup!" snapped Megan.
"Everyone out there, but especially you Melbourne kids between ten and twenty kilometres south of
the Yarra, get out there and rip out the ryegrass next spring. Send samples in to the CSIRO so we can
work out just how far this new type of zitgrass has spread. And remember: scientists have all the fun-- "
A commercial cut her short.
"So that's why she chose a pop music show on prime time," Megan said. "She's recruiting a huge team
of free research assistants."
"Wasn't she great, wasn't she just great?" babbled Alex. "D'you know her from school? Could you tell
her you have this real spunk of a brother who's into science?"
"I could, Lex, but I'd be lying."
The commercials ended, and Rockin' and Ravin' went straight into a video clip. Megan shambled off
to her room. A year ago she had crushed Blondefire like a beetle underfoot, but now she lurked in the
shadows, defeated, while Jackie was a triumphant hero.
She sat on the edge of her bed. Jackie Cassall, teenage scientist. I made her what she is, she thought. I
created her. She's already ahead of me. How long before she realises that gene hacking created zitgrass?
I'm the first one she would check in the hunt for a gene hacker, what I did probably breaches the Geneva
Convention on Germ Warfare. Megan shuddered, then stood up. She had not allowed herself to think of
the consequences when she had been preparing the zitgrass plague. Jackie had to be stopped before she
learned the truth, if it was not already too late. She went to the attic and took her DNA-ram apart, then
returned downstairs with the starter's pistol.
"I have to go out for a while, Lex. Can I borrow your bike and your helmet?"
"No problem."
"Before I forget, here's your starter's pistol back."
"What? Oh, that. Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"What about your experiment?"
"It's finished. It was... disappointing."
Megan packed maps, diagrams, chromatograph charts and seeds into a large envelope, then scribbled
a note.
Jackie, this enclosed info may help you. I created zitgrass in an amateur genetic engineering
experiment. I must have had pollen and seeds on my clothing, and spread them when I went jogging.
When the zit plague started I panicked and tried to cover up. I am truly sorry for what happened to you
and everyone else, and I accept full blame. Congrats on your scientific investigation, it was brilliant.
Megan Warnall.
She hated to accuse herself of incompetence, but that was better than confessing the truth and risking a
jail term for bio-terrorism. There was still one last reparation to be made: dizzy with anguish, she printed
out the draft of her letter to NASA about the 3G seeds.
When she reached Jackie's place the lights were on. Good: her parents were there to take the
package. She couldn't be back from the studio yet.
But Jackie answered the doorbell.
"Megan!" she exclaimed.
"I didn't expect you to be home. The-- ah, television show."
"You mean Rockin' and Ravin'?" laughed Jackie. "Danny locked himself in a toilet and refused to come
out while I was still there. The studio hands bundled me into a taxi while the commercials were on and
had me driven home."
Megan clutched the envelope and stared down at the doormat. This was not the way she had wanted