"Daniel Keys Moran - A Tale of the Continuing Time 02 - The Long Run" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moran Daniel Keys)

have in mind?"
Trent looked at the man blankly. "Nothing. I'm not going to boost Frank
Galley for you, and I'm not going to con him either. Look, have you ever
eaten here before?"
"Never."
"Oh. Too bad. Usually when I go to a new restaurant I like to go with
somebody who's been there before, so I know what's good. You may not
know this," said Trent thoughtfully, "but two years ago a Player scored
some image coprocessor hardware off CalleyTronics, chanted Galley's
accounting computer to believe the hardware had been properly paid for,
and had it shipped to a drop box. It took Galley half a year to find out
who'd done it, but that summer they fished a corpse out of the East River.
His teeth had been pulled with pliers, his eyes were poked out, his fingers
had been chopped off, and his features defaced with acid. They identified
him by his inskin."
"You won't take the job?"
"Am I being asked?"
"Yes."
"No."
Jackson took a deep breath. "Why not?"
Trent shrugged. "No percentage. If I was going to, I'd do a con to get
Galley coming after me, get him to believe I had something he wanted. But
I'm not going to. The guy's mean, but he's also pretty straight; guys like
him always go to the Peaceforcers."
 A gorgeous, mature woman in a black evening gown came out to their
table, with the waiter a few steps behind her. "Monsieur?"
"Yes?" said Trent politely.
For some reason his response seemed to throw her. Her accent was
considerably better than the waiter's; Trent would have bet she was
actually French. "You wished to order . . ."
"Coffee."
"An entire pot?"
"Please."
"We do not sell coffee by the pot, monsieur. We do not even have a pot
to put the coffee in; the coffee is brewed in a single large"тАФshe hesitated,
searching for a wordтАФ"vat? Yes, vat, brewed in a vat in the morning, and
then put in stasis and poured from stasis a cup at a time."
"Okay. I want five, no, make that seven, seven cups of coffee, each one
about fifteen percent cream, one right after the other. Send the waitbot
out with a cup, give it about five minutes and send it out again. Do that
until I tell it to stop."
"Monsieur," she said, stress making it difficult for Trent to follow her
words, "we have only three waitbots. If we do this we must assign a
waitbot to do nothing but service your table, and this will affect the other
patrons."
"Damn it," Jerry Jackson exploded, "what is this nonsense? Take the
goddamn coffee in a cup. Are you here to talk business or what?"
Raindrops were striking Trent square in the face. The manager looked
back and forth between the two of them in confusion. "You're sure?" Trent
asked her. "It's simply not possible to have the cups just keep coming?"