"Larry Niven & Steve Barnes - The California Voodoo Game" - читать интересную книгу автора (Niven Larry)

which is more than most can say. Anyway, we gave it up maybe six years
ago when an old buddy offered good jobs at a restaurant at Kennedy
International. Lugbot jockeys, off-duty stews, mostly. They went
automated, we grabbed our savings and got out. El, I said, what would we
rather do than anything in the world?"

Tony pulled farther back as another voice came in, highpitched and lightly
accented. "I know your answer. "

Chi-Chi Lopez was the prettier half of the world's most famous team of
Game Masters. Her cheekbones were high and angular, but softened by
ringlets of shoulder-length, jet-black hair. Her eyes were just as dark and
sparkled with mischief.
"Richard and I used three of your DreamTime routines before you even went
pro, Doris."

"Tribute from a master," Elmo said, putting two drinks on Doris's tray.

"Later. Our room." Doris arched her eyebrows. "Tribute from a mistress?"

"Rrrrr!" He swatted her affectionately. She dimpled, sashaying away.

Barmaid's walk, Tony mused. Efficient, no-nonsense sex appeal. She was
old enough to be his mother, but she'd been a private fantasy for months.
Was the Whitman marriage lock-stepped?

Chi-Chi watched them and then turned her attention to her husband,
Richard. Tony remembered the wan little man. More specifically, he
remembered playing the South Seas Treasure Game, designed and executed
by the Lopezes. Their reputation had been well earned: lethal,
unpredictable, but basically fair.

Richard spoke, and the computer automatically adjusted for decreased
volume and pitch change: Richard had lost a lung four years back.

A small dark man with introspective black eyes and a pencil-thin mustache,
he always hesitated over his words, as if writing them on a mental slate
before speaking. "This is the Game I always wanted to conduct," he said. "I
am happy to have you with me, El. Doris. This one will be remembered."

Hell, yes. It would be argued about, debated, and replayed for years.

And even after costs, and dividing up almost seven million dollars in
guarantees among the players, the Park would still profit mightily.
Worldwide pay-per-view, virtual simulations, theatrical re-creations, and
licensing rights would
reap over thirty million dollars.

Damned little of which would find its way into Tony McWhirter's hands.