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

"The thing to remember," the potentate was saying, "is that Lopez will do about the maximum damage
to a party that he can without someone yelling foul. He's got to think about the next Game. If it
gets out that he hit us with an eighty-percenter blizzard or a flock of plague bats, he won't be
able to sell it. So it'll be nasty, but fair."
Tony asked, "What exactly is fair?"
Henderson turned to face him. "Fair is anything that could be found naturally in the given
environment, plus anything the internal logic could imply. Like. . . in my second Game. Medieval
world. First person we met was a Round Table knight, obscure, but I knew the name. Well, I started
watching for anything that might imply. Black plague, dragons, Inquisition. . . and I didn't try
for the Grail at all, because I'd never be judged pure enough. You follow?"
"Vaguely."
"Look for the internal logic, always. And who are you? Are you with Acacia?"
"Tony McWhirter." He put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close enough that her dark hair
pillowed against his. "We're together, yes."
"Wonderful. You'll have a great time. Hey, Acacia, remember the 'Frost Holocaust'?"
It sparked an elfin grin of remembrance. "Who could forget those dog packs? And you should see my
pictures of the mutants. Some of them didn't come out too well on film, though."
"I hear the holos are hellaciously sharper this year. Shouldn't be a problem." He thought for a
moment, then continued, "We can expect a forest or tropic region. I doubt Lopez would use any
common or well-known myth-pattern, so we'll have to be on our toes. We may or may not be allowed
modern weapons. I'll get all of that information tomorrow. Magic Users are probably Go, maybe some
Swordspersons, an Engineer or two, a couple of Thieves. . ."

The doorman was appropriately cadaverous. He wore a tattered black hat, and a motheaten cloak that
dragged loose threads on the ground. He opened the door for Gwen and Ollie, stepping out of their
way with creaking torpidity. "This way, young masters," he rumbled.
"Will you look at this?" Ollie whispered to Gwen, goggle-eyed. The tram had unloaded them at the
Haunted House, the theme hotel east of the main amusement area. They were still underground, in a
depot decorated in Early Caligari. Cobwebs festooned the corners of the station, and crawling
things with glowing red eyes stalked their strands. The path before them led into a hallway with a
glass ceiling.
Gwen looked up. "Wow." It was their own reflection; but as they proceeded, the flesh began to melt
off their bones. When they reached the end of the corridor their reflections were a pair of
skeletons shambling back to the mausoleum after a hard night's haunt.
"I don't know if I really want to open the door," she said. Ollie edged it open with his
fingertips. It creaked hideously.
The lobby was dim, and decorated in blacks and dark reds. Even the couches and chairs were
somewhat foreboding. The red seat cushion on one dark chair gave it the unmistakable appearance of
an open mouth. The ceiling was low. Flickering candelabra supplied the light.
A lovely hostess in a flowing, wraith-white gown greeted them. Her red lipstick was just bright
enough to bring out the paleness of her cheeks. She brought one delicate hand up to her mouth and
coughed politely, then favored them with a dazzling smile.
"Good morning, my name is Lenore and I'd like to welcome you to the Haunted House, one of the nine
Dream Park hotels. This is a theme hotel, so be ready. Anything can happen."
The check-in terminal bore the guise of a great orchid plant; and the lovely flowers bowed toward
them in entirely too friendly
a fashion. Ollie fished out his preregistration card and allowed a flower to take it. A quick
display of words and numbers ran up the orchid-festooned screen; then the words "Adolph Norliss
and S. 0. room 7024."
Ollie looked at Lenore curiously. "S. 0.? What's that?"