"Dream Park" - читать интересную книгу автора (Niven Larry)

"Your cots are over here," Chicon said, pulling one of the inflatable mattresses out of its niche in the wall. "Coffee and food dispensers are in the usual place, but the lavatory is built into the control room now. You won't have to leave even to get a shower."
Lopez nodded without speaking, running his hands over the controls with a lover's touch. He and Mitsuko exchanged looks, and she blushed prettily.
Alex shunted the luggage over into a corner. He was fighting a contact high from the Lopezes. This room was infectious. It had obviously been built for more than sheer utility, or even comfort. For some, this would be the Game's real lure. One day the faithful Game player would graduate to the Control Room, to create his own fantasy worlds instead of merely acting out someone else's
to be a prime mover instead of just a participant.
For just an instant Alex could see into the Lopezes' relationship, could see the world they shared with each other and with nobody else. He could feel that their love for each other was filtered and colored by their fantasies, by their ability to make dreams come real. A dream born of their minds would be shared with a select group of Dream Park technicians, then with a team of fantasy Garners. If all went well, when all the bugs were out of the programming, then it could be shared with the world.
As if guided by one mind, Richard and Mitsuko turned to them, hand in hand. "This is fine. We need to be left alone now, if you don't mind. Richard and I have a lot of work to do before morning."
"Of course. If there's anything you need, just give us a call." Welles shook hands with both of them again, and the Dream Park personnel departed.
O'Brien chuckled as they walked back to the elevators.
"They're classic. I bet there's a level of nonverbal communication between them that borders on telepathy. Did you notice how frequently they touched each other?" Alex had noticed. "I'd call that a continuing reassurance for each that the other exists. They live very deep in their heads. I noticed something else, too."
"What was that?"
"They only spoke to each other once."
"What the hell do you mean? They were all over each other."
"Physically, they're in constant communication. Intellectually, I bet they mesh even better. But apparently very little of their interplay is on the verbal level."
Alex chewed on that while they waited for the elevators. Finally, uneasily, he said, "Well, don't just stand there. What does it mean?"
Skip smiled maliciously. "Damned if I know. I'd heard about them and wanted to see for myself."
"You mean you're just going to raise the question and leave it dangling? How am I supposed to sleep tonight? What kind of man are you, anyway?"
"The kind who's going to buy you a drink, if we can find a bar open around here."
Alex held the elevator for him. "Oh. That kind of man. My father told me to stay away from your type-" and the door shut behind them.

The morning outside these walls was still black. In the waiting area it was all artificial lighting. Take it as an omen, Tony told himself. Reality is artificial from this point on. He squinted at the Character Identification form in his hand.
Acacia wrote part of a line on her own form, then turned to him. "Panthesilea was real. She was one of the Amazon queens killed in the Trojan War by Achilles. She was strong and beautiful and they sang songs to her memory for years."
Tony snuck a peek at Ollie's sheet, and laughed. "Oliver the Frank? Are you kidding, or what?"
Ollie looked up sheepishly. "When I first started Gaming I was afraid I'd forget my character's name. So I used my nickname. Anyway, Oliver's a legitimate hero; he fought under Charlemagne, with Roland."
Tony hadn't meant to put Ollie on the defensive. He started to say so, but the intercom interrupted him. "Attention all Game
participants. Costuming will proceed for another forty minutes only. Thank you."
There was a general buzz in the waiting area beneath Game Central, and four people scurried off to the enclosed costuming booths for last minute touch-ups.
The fifteen players were an odd lot. Although all had stowed cotton shirts and pants in their tote bags, each now wore clothing peculiar to the characters they chose to play on the expedition. Two things they had in common: the eagerness, thick enough to cut, and the "neck tabs": silver metal disks held in place by nearly invisible, soft plastic bands.
Mary-Martha, "Mary-em," waddled around the oak-paneled waiting area with the self-assurance of an iron duck. The longer she waited, the fiercer burned her energy. She wore brown leather that hugged her chunky body glue-tight, with joints cut in the leather at waist and knees to provide leeway. She carried a short halberd with a flat heavy blade, slung across her back.
Acacia recognized several of the other Garners by reputation. The thin, wiry blond man would be Bowan the Black. He had discarded the scarlet robe that had been his first choice of raiment, and settled for hip boots and a black velvet shirt split in a hairychested "V." His companion was a half-pretty redhead, tall and thin, with a slight roll of flabby skin around her midsection. A sure sign of the diet faddist. What was it this month, dear? Ten grams of vinegar-soaked raisins before every meal?
Acacia clucked at herself, half-ashamed of her automatic negative reaction to the woman, who had registered in the "Thief" category as Dark Star.
Ollie and Gwen didn't worry her. Beneath their awe-shucks exteriors she sensed born Gamesters. Even Chester had seemed glad to see them. Gwen was still in the costuming room, as Ollie's frequent casual glances in that direction confirmed.
Gina Perkins had been dressed to kill every time Acacia had seen her. Now she wore hiking shorts and shirt, both covered with pockets, but they didn't cling to her like a coat of paint. There was makeup, but it was subdued. Her hair was intricately arranged, and she was still stunning. She was playing her wizard's staff while she waited.
That was stunning. Acacia had seen pictures in the Gaming magazines. It was five feet tall and an inch thick, jammed with instrumentation and the internal computer. Patterns of colored
lights ran up and down its length, and monochromatic flames lashed from the tip, as Gina's fingertips ran over the contact-sensitive keyboard.
Tony watched as if mesmerized; then tore his eyes away and went back to work on his Character Identification sheet. He was feeling the crunch, she thought. The jokes were there, and the smug smiles and knowing touches, but there was something else too. Pre-Game jitters, a touch of fantasy flu?
His long jaw worked a nonexistent wad of gum, and his chocolate eyes seemed watery as he worked. The Character Identification sheet was an optional adjunct to the Game that Lopez had asked everyone to fill out. It listed not only imaginary physical and mental characteristics, but shaded over into genealogy.
Acacia looked at her own sheet. How did Amazons have children? Captured male slaves, maybe? Parthenogenesis? She used a little of both. Panthesilea was a sterile female born parthenogenetically. Her mother (drown it! Finding a name for your character's mother on the spur of the moment was too much like work). Her mother Melissa was the offspring of Queen Herona (more fiction) and a captive Greek named, ah, Cyrius, a bastard son of Hercules.
She hoped that the other players were having as much trouble. All personal characteristics were measured in Wessler-Grahm points and were pre-registered with the I.F.G.S. and filed in the Gaming A computer. In this group, only Tony had no initial rating. The computer had run a random number series for him, and spit out double-digits which, in Wessler-Grahm terms, represented percentage chances of a positive result in combat or emergency. He had come out high in agility and intelligence, medium in strength, and low in recuperative powers.
Tony had looked at the read-out with a cautiously lidded excitement. "This bodes not well for my ambitions of warriorhood. What are my choices?"
Chicon and Dwight Welles were there to act as intermediaries and override controllers for the I.F.G.S. referees. Larry Chicon had enjoyed the chance to get involved. He had counted off Tony's options, one finger at a time. "Magic User, Warrior, Thief, Cleric, and Engineer. And Explorer. Each of them have their plusses and minuses, and we do allow some combination play, but in general it's best to find one category and get into it as deep as possible."
Tony found himself wishing that the oversized monitors were
switched on, to give him a peek into what waited for them in Area A. "How would I do as a Magic User?"
Welles shook his head slowly. "Wouldn't recommend it, but I can't stop you if that's what you want."
"What's wrong with Magic User?"
"That's pretty complicated for a first outing. Besides, your Charisma score was only 36%. Trying conjuring up a demon with that and you'll be dinner."
"What's the difference between Magic User and Cleric?"
"Oh, Clerics usually perform preventive magic or curative magic. And they get their powers 'from on high,' which means they must be pure of spirit. Playing with the ladies while in the Game might mess that up-"
Larry shot Welles a nasty look. "That's turkey turds, Tony. What you do during the twelve hours a day that the Game is 'off' is totally up to you. Look: with good scores in Intelligence and Agility, why don't you try Thief?"
Tony opened his mouth as if to protest, then he laughed and nodded. "If it'll help me survive the Game, I'm for it." And Tony McWhirter became a first level Thief, Fortunato by name, thought to be a bastard son of either Fafhrd or the Grey Mouser, it being that kind of relationship. He would enter the gaming area in cotton tropical garb.
The warning buzzer sounded again, and Chester Henderson bounded into the room. He wore a green safari shirt and matching pants, with creases sharp enough to cut paper. His pipestem arms and legs were fairly flapping with enthusiasm. "Last minute check, everybody. We've only got a few minutes, and then we're off. Any questions?" He looked slowly around the room.