"Jim Munroe - Angry Young Spaceman" - читать интересную книгу автора (Munroe Jim)

suitcase and left for the bar, with a plan to make the rest of my head
numb.


***


тАЬCould you stop that?тАЭ
The charliebot continued polishing the shot glass. тАЬWhat?тАЭ
тАЬThe polishing. You werenтАЩt doing it when I came in.тАЭ They have some
subroutine that gets them doing some pointless busy-work. ItтАЩs irritating.
тАЬJust stop the polishing, willya?тАЭ
тАЬUppity human,тАЭ he growled as he rolled away.
That was a bit extreme. Someone had been in here talking revolution,
or at least bitching about Earthlings. The idea was that it gave each
carbon-copy bar its own character, for better or worse: the bar near my
place had a charliebot that spouted the annoying pretentious witticisms of
its lunarian regulars.
I resisted the urge to ask what species had used that phrase тАФ itтАЩd just
feed my own prejudices, after all. It was odd, though, тАШcause bars were
mostly a human thing. I looked around, a little paranoid. I couldnтАЩt see
anyone, but that didnтАЩt mean anything.
тАЬHow many people in the bar, Charlie?тАЭ
CharlieтАЩs head extended about a foot on a thin metal pipe neck... turned
one way clickclickclick.... turned the other way... clickclickclick... then
turned his jug-eared lump of a head back to face me. From on high, he
reported: тАЬItтАЩs just you and me, buddy. No other patrons present.тАЭ His
head dropped down with a hydraulic hiss and he asked: тАЬSo who owes who
a drink?тАЭ
When the charliebots were being test-marketed, the locals (after they
got tired of mocking it and getting it to repeat various naughty phrases)
started taking advantage of its sensor functions, usually with a little bet
involved. The manufacturers saw this and capitalized on it, adding
theatrics тАФ a charliebot doesnтАЩt have to extend its neck to count the
people in the bar, for instance тАФ and, naturally, the follow-up pressure
sell. DonтАЩt ask me how I remember clavinish facts like this, but the craven
and clever tactics of business are in my blood, I suppose.
 Of course, I also remembered all the times they had slipped up тАФ asking
the one person in a bar who was buying, for instance. An тАЬif barpatrons=1
then...тАЭ statement would have done the job.
тАЬCome on, donтАЩt be a cheap bastard. Our house beer is only eighteen
credits, buddy!тАЭ The charliebotтАЩs hose arm extended, poised above my
glass, waiting for my OK.
I sat there quietly. With sales-happy robots, no input is the best input,
if you can stand it. Sometimes, theyтАЩll presume consent, and if you havenтАЩt
actually ordered it... I sat there quietly.
Charlie started filling my glass. Like beer, silence can be golden.
тАЬWhoтАЩs paying?тАЭ he said, driblets falling from his retracting draft arm.
тАЬThe other guy,тАЭ I said, watching as it paused to sense for the тАЬother
guy.тАЭ There was no theatrical flourish this time, just a quick attempt to