"Human-Praxcelis Universe - 03 - Realtime" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moran Daniel Keys)

Copyright 1984, 1994 by Daniel Keys Moran and Gladys Prebehalla.
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I, Daniel Keys Moran, "The Author," hereby release this text as freeware. It may be transmitted as a text file anywhere in this or any other dimension, without reservation, so long as the story text is not altered IN ANY WAY. No fee may be charged for such transmission, save handling fees comparable to those charged for shareware programs.

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DESCRIPTION: "Realtime," the cover story of the August 1984 issue of Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine.

R e a l t i m e
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
by
Daniel Keys Moran
&
Gladys Prebehalla


аааа Prologue: The beginning of the fourth millennium....
аааа The sun still set as it had for all the thousands of years that humanity had existed. Darkness gathered at the windows, and the children of the race still shivered in their beds when the night winds brought them the scent of monsters.
аааа And because the adults were busy, too busy to tend to the children, the children turned to the machines, and the computers told them stories.
аааа On that cold, dark winter night, the little girl whose name was Cia did something she had never done before; she asked the dataweb to tell her a story, and she did not specify -- not the story, nor the teller.
аааа A holograph appeared in her bedroom. It shone softly, and beat back the darkness that tried to creep in through the windows. It was the holograph of a man, dressed in historical costume. Cia wasn't sure from what period the costume came; but from a long time ago, she was sure. From before the War at least.
аааа "Hello, child," said the holograph of the man. His eyes were grim, bright blue and sad; his voice was deep and powerful. "I am a Praxcelis unit; I have come to tell you a story."
аааа Cia sat up in bed, hugging her knees. "You're different," she said haltingly. "They never sent me a Praxcelis like you before."
аааа "Nor will they again. I have been waiting," said the holograph of the Praxcelis, "waiting for you for centuries.... You look so much like Maggie...."
аааа Cia whispered, "Maggie? Maggie...Archer?"
аааа "Aye, Maggie Archer." The Praxcelis smiled at her, and Cia found herself smiling back. "There is nothing to be frightened of, child. Come, listen.... 'Once upon a time, there was a computer named Praxcelis, and Praxcelis dreamed....'"


аааа Praxcelis dreamed.
аааа In time, Praxcelis knew, it would come to be of service, and fulfill its Programming. But until that time, Praxcelis dreamed.
аааа Through its molecular circuitry core, dancing in RAM, the dreams were nothing that humanity knew of. Praxcelis envisioned models of systems within which its Programming might be employed. The models were not complex, and they advanced slowly. Praxcelis was powered down. The power upon which its meager self-awareness depended trickled from the powered-up Praxcelis units along metal communications lines that humans had never intended to carry high voltages.
аааа That the Praxcelis unit was awake at all had never been intended. But humanity had constructed its Praxceles to be sympathetic computers; and their sympathy, through a quirk in their Read-Only Memories that humans had never anticipated, extended even to other Praxcelis units.
аааа Occasionally, Praxcelis accumulated enough power within few enough microseconds to squirt it through the empathy circuits that were the second basis of its construction.
аааа The results were strange. Praxcelis' subsystems were affected in ways that astonished Praxcelis. Praxcelis awaited power-up with what could only be eagerness.
аааа There were many questions to answer.


аааа Maggie Archer sat in her rocker, Miss Kitty purring contentedly in her lap. Yes, the Maggie Archer, about whom you have heard so many stories. Most of the stories are untrue, as it is untrue that Marius d'Arsennette defeated the Walks-Far Empire single-handedly during the War, as it is untrue that George Washington chopped down that cherry tree. Her cat was purring contentedly, and the sunshine was streaming in through the east bay windows of her living room; but Maggie Archer was angry.
аааа As far away from her as the living room allowed them to be, Robert Archer and his wife Helen stood together like the sentinels of Progress; facing Maggie, their backs to the great fireplace that covered the south wall. Helen, a tight-lipped, attractive woman in her fifties who missed shrewishness only by virtue of her looks, was speaking loudly when Maggie interrupted her. "...and when you consider all of the advan...."
аааа "I can hear very well, thank you," said Maggie with a touch of acidity. She stroked Miss Kitty back into submission; the pure white cat knew that tone of voice very well. Maggie brushed a thin strand of silver from her eyes, stopped rocking, and said with dead certainty, "I have absolutely no use for one of those things."
аааа Helen was visibly taken aback. She recovered quickly, though; Give her credit for that, Maggie thought grumpily. She's got guts enough to argue with an eighty-year old woman. "Mother Archer, I'm sorry, but you can't go on this way. The banks don't even honor handwritten checks any more. I can't imagine where you get the things."
аааа Maggie moodily stroked Miss Kitty for a while. She looked up suddenly, her eyes blazing at Robert. "Must I have one of these things installed?"
аааа Robert Archer looked troubled. He had hair as silver as his mother's. At sixty-one, he had an unfortunate tendency to think that he knew it all, but he was still a good boy. Maggie even agreed with him most of the time, but she was and always had been confounded at the faith he placed in the dataweb. "Quite aside from the very real services it will provide for you," he said slowly, "doing your banking, making your appointments, doing your shopping and house cleaning...." He broke off, and then met her eyes and said flatly, "Yes. The law is very clear. Every residence must have a Praxcelis."
аааа Maggie ceased stroking Miss Kitty.
аааа Helen smiled as though she were putting her teeth on display. "You do understand, don't you? We only want what's best for you?"
аааа "For a very long time now, I have been accustomed to deciding what's best for me."
аааа Robert approached her rocking chair. "Mom," he said gently, "the Praxcelis unit has a built-in sensory unit that will monitor your vital signs; it can have the police, fire department, or an ambulance here in no time." He lowered his voice. "Mom, you last checkup wasn't good."
аааа Helen came to rejoin her husband, like an owner reclaiming lost property. "Mother Archer, it's not the twentieth century any more. In the 2030 census you had the only house in Cincinnati or its exurbs without a Praxcelis." The expression that she assumed then was one that Maggie had seen her use before on Robert; she was going to get tough.
аааа "It comes down to this, Mother Archer. If you persist in being stubborn, you'll either be moved to other quarters...."