"Reed, Robert - FirstTuesday" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reed Robert)

ROBERT REED

FIRST TUESDAY

It seems as if the 1992 elections just ended, and yet this magazine arrives in
your mailbox at the beginning of primary season. So, with politics on our minds,
we searched for some appropriate stories.

Political science fiction is often about the ramifications of social change.
Rarely does the political sf story (these days) begin with a point of
technological change. In "First Tuesday," Robert Reed uses a change in
technology to examine the future of Presidential-Constituents relations.

AFTER A LOT OF PESTERING, More told Stefan, "Fine, you can pick the view." Only
it wasn't an easy job, and Stefan enjoyed it even more than he'd hoped. Standing
on the foam-rock patio, he spoke to the house computer, asking for the Grand
Canyon, then Hawaii's coast, then Denali. He saw each from many vantage points,
never satisfied and never sure why not. Then he tried Mount Rushmore, which was
better. Except Yancy saw the six stone heads, and he stuck his head out long
enough to say, "Change it. Now." No debate; no place for compromise. Stefan
settled on the Grand Canyon, on a popular view from the North Rim, telling
himself that 'it was lovely and appropriate, and he hoped their guest would
approve, and how soon would he be here . . . ? In another couple seconds, Stefan
realized. Jesus, now . . . !

A figure appeared on the little lawn. He was tall, wearing a fancy suit, that
famous face smiling straight at Stefan. And the boy jumped into the house,
shouting with glee:

"The President's here!"

His stepfather muttered something.

Mom whined, "Oh, but I'm not ready."

Stefan was ready. He ran across the patio, leaping where it ended. His habit was
to roll down the worn grassy slope. But he was wearing good clothes, and this
evening was full of civic responsibilities. Landing with both feet solidly under
him, he tried very hard to look like the most perfect citizen possible.

The President appeared solid. Not real, but nearly so.

The face was a mixture of Latin and African genes. The dreadlocks were long
enough to kiss his broad shoulders. Halfway through his second term, President
Perez was the only president that Stefan could remember, and even though this
was just a projection, an interactive holo generated by machines . . . it was
still an honor to have him here, and Stefan felt special, and for more reasons
than he could count, he was nervous. In good ways, and in bad ways too.