"L. E. Modesitt - Archform Beauty" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

Data and more data. There's more to public safety than data. Data doesn't feel. Crime happens because
people feel. You feel what they do, the data makes sense.

I tried NetPrime News--the local reports. Best of the worst. Again, direct-feed. Just closed my eyes
and let the words and images appear. Didn't care much for holo projections off the net. Crap blown
larger remained crap.

Most newsworthy item was a bit about the west-coast wygs were modifying scanner glasses. Mods let
the perps see who had nanite body shields, make it easier to pick victims. Just what we needed. Another
gadget to make public safety tougher. Wish someone had told the Department. If the street hadn't been
quiet, probably wouldn't have been on news at all. I flashed a memo to the captain, suggested it be
disseminated Department-wide.
After that, checked all the incomings. Mostly routine. Only things new were a rash of phony soop sprays
that were only glucose with a boost and the theft of lorries for house smash-ins. Mass overwhelmed most
house shields. Also, a notice of higher DPS deductions for health care. That was because of improved
internal nanite diagnostics. Took more equipment to read and repair.

Higher health care, water surcharges--not one thing it was another.

Almost two hours later before I stretched and walked back out to the consoles.

"Going to run the towers? Or westside?" asked Sarao.

"Westside. Can't get into anything in the towers. Not without appointments or a cause warrant. See me
going to the regional advocate asking for one just to prowl because I feel something's coming down?"

"Too bad they don't let us do more of that."

"Never have. Never will."

"How long?" Sarao looked at me.

"Long as it takes. I'll be on link if you need me." Didn't need to say that, but it made people happier to
hear it. Even Sarao, and she knew better.

Ask why I go out? Why I don't link? People don't talk. They don't talk in person sometimes, either. But
the way they don't talk tells stories, too.

Went back down to the garage. To transport. Entered my codes through GIL link. Linking ID to gene
codes--genetic identity link--made a lot of the old-style crimes almost impossible. Almost. Next came
the code for re-con. System paused, like always. Recon was a special code. Only trendside could use it.
I got a white electral. Nothing special except a beefed-up comm unit and military-level defscreens.

Electral was recoded just for me by the time I crossed the garage. Door still squeaked. Always would.
Smelled like plastics inside. That wouldn't change. Touched my hands to the stickwheel.

Cleared for recon. Estimate return.

"Fourteen hundred." I always spoke, but linked when I said it.