"Larry Niven & Steve Barnes - Dreampark" - читать интересную книгу автора (Niven Larry)

young men and a woman who looked to be in her late twenties, waved gratefully and ambled over,
weaving to avoid other customers. They propped backpacks against the low wall, then staggered to
the service window to order. Presently they were back with sandwiches and Swiss Treats.
"Whew. Thanks, people. This place is a madhouse," said a tall, lanky fellow with long yellow hair
plaited in braids. He reached over to shake hands. "I'm Emory, and these are Della and Chris."
Talk paused while Emory and his group made a ritual of tasting civilized food.
Chris looked well rested except for his eyes, which were bright and glassy. Della had a bad
complexion and ears that stuck out a little too far, but her voice was sheer magic, a husky growl
that was pure female animal. "Hi," she said. "You guys just coming in?"
McWhirter tore his eyes away from her mouth with a visible tug. "How did you know?"
"You look too rested. In a few days you too will join the ranks of the walking dead."
Della looked at Gwen for a second and asked, "Didn't we do a Game together about two years ago?"
Gwen looked uncertain. Tony said, "You're a Gamer, Della?"
"How else would I get so tired? We just went through a two-day Game in 'B'."
Tony's eyes widened. Two days? But they looked like they'd fought the Vietnam War!
Ollie perked up. "How was it? I mean, was it good? How many points did you win? Who ran it?"
The drawn look left Chris's face. "It was Evans's Game. Heard of her? Mean broad. It was hotter
than Hell, and never a second to relax. Between the three of us we got three hundred twenty-seven
points."
Tony looked sheepish. "Is that a lot?"
Everyone laughed, and he took it without flinching. Acacia said,
"The average player earns about thirty points a day on an extended Game." She turned to the three
Gamers. "You people really did a job." And they all beamed proudly.
"What kind of Game was it?" Tony asked.
Della said, "Salvage. We were following the trail of a lost archeological expedition somewhere in
Persia. We ended up in a subterranean lake, fighting off a tribe of cannibal troglodites for the
right to lug back a golden idol that came to life on us anyway."
"Lose many of your party?"


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"About half. Chris got killed. But we figured out how to make the idol-"
"Ssss!"
"Sorry. Emory's right, you might want to play it yourself one day."
McWhirter looked at Chris, who was looking wrung out again. "What's it like to die?"
"Cold"
"Cold?"
"Persian hell is cold," said Chris.
Ollie piped up. "That would be Zoroastrian. Early Persian."
Chris nodded. "It wasn't cold enough to be really uncomfortable. Sort of a maze filled with
spirits of the dead. Took me about an hour to find my way out, then I cashed in my stuff, got my
points registered and went back to the Shogunate Fortress- that's my hotel-to watch the rest of
the Game."
Tony asked, "Didn't it bother you, getting killed?"
He shrugged. "Part of the Game." It bothered him.
Gwen asked, "You're taking off today?"
"We've still got to check out of the hotel. We shuttle out to New Frisco in about an hour. Are you
guys in South Seas Treasure?"