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

Snakelike and far off around the edge of the Park the Gravity Whip coiled, offering a total of
thirty seconds of weightlessness via computer-designed parabolic arcs. The monitor eye swept over
to Gaming Area B, where the Salvage Game had been conducted.
That one was interesting. Partly in desert territory and partly underwater, it had involved twelve
players for two days. Alex figured that the Game Master on that one would just about break even.
It had cost three hundred thousand dollars to set the Game up. The twelve participants had paid
four hundred a day, each, for the privilege of earning "Gaming Points" for the fantasy characters
they portrayed and, not incidentally, for having the bejeezus scared out of them. Book rights
presold, film rights likewise.
He couldn't pretend to understand the logic behind it. The vagaries of the International Gaming
Society were totally beyond him. The players seemed to speak a foreign language. And this month
they had two Games back to back!
The Games did help the Park, though. The Olde Arkham Tour had started as a Game, thirty or forty
years ago.
There, now, that was more like it. The big shooting gallery over across from the Hell Ride was
more his cup of tea. Alex slipped in there occasionally to knock off a few Nazis or dinosaurs or


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muggers. God, that was a realistic "experience." The R&D boys were incredible. And quite mad.
He thumbed the control, and the camera roved further afield. Over there- His monitor buzzed, and
with a grimace Alex shut off the holo and answered the call. Muffle's voice spoke, but the
congealing visual image was of a guard Griffin couldn't quite place.
"Research and Development, Gruff," Muffle's voice said.
"Right." Name and background fell into place now. This would be Albert Rice calling from his guard
station between Files and the technological monster known as Game Center.
Rice was strong and smart, quick to volunteer his services, and Griffin sometimes felt a twinge of
guilt at not warming to the man. Maybe just jealousy, he mused. Rice cut a handsome blond profile,
almost pretty, and several of the secretaries in Protective Services had bets going to see who
would score with him first. In the year Rice had been with Dream Park, nobody had yet collected.
Something was bothering Rice. He seemed agitated; he kept shifting his feet.
"Yes, Rice, what's the problem?"
"Ah, good morning, sir. Nothing wrong here at the post, but-" He hesitated, then blurted, "I just
got word that my apartment in CMC was vandalized."
Griffin felt himself coming to attention. "When was the report filed?"
"Only about a half hour ago. Lock broken, and some stuff scattered around, the cop said, but they
didn't take my electronics. I'd like to see what is missing."
Griffin nodded somberly. "You don't have any crazy friends over there in R&D, do you- No, scratch
that." They weren't that crazy. "You'd better take the rest of your shift off. I'll get somebody
over there to fill in in about twenty minutes. Check out then. What's going on over there?"
"Mostly prepping Game Central for the South Seas Treasure Game."
"Yeah, that looks to be a monster. Listen, would you like to make up the hours you'll lose this
afternoon?" Albert Rice nodded enthusiastic agreement. "Good. Put in for the night shift, and
check back in at midnight. We'll work you eight to five for a few days, all right?"
"Right, Chief."
Alex signed out and blanked the image. He popped on the inter-office line and Millie appeared,
smile neatly in place. "Millie, send me the dossiers on the Game tomorrow, will you?"
"Right, Griff."