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

nothing would be noticed.

The President was turning in a circle, hunting for something else to compliment.
For some reason, the house wasn't wearing its usual coat of projected paints and
architectural flourishes. Their guest was too complicated, no doubt. Too many
calculations, plus the computer had to show the Grand Canyon . . . and the real
house lay exposed in all its drabness. Glass foams and cardboard looked gray and
simple, and insubstantial, three walls inside the yard and the fourth wall
pointed toward the outdoors, the brown stains on the sky showing where rainwater
had damaged the squidskin.

To break the silence, Stefan blurted out a question. "Mr. President, where do
you stand on the economy?"

That's how reporters asked questions.

But the great man didn't respond in the expected way. His smile changed,
remaining a smile but encompassing some new, subtly different flavor of light.
"I'll stand on the economy's head," he replied. "With my feet apart, ready for
anything."

Was that a genuine answer?

Stefan wasn't sure.

Then the President knelt, putting his head below the boy's, saying with a happy,
self-assured voice, "Thank you for the question. And remember, what happens
tonight goes both ways. You can learn what I'm thinking, and in a different way
I'll learn what's on your mind."

Stefan nodded, well aware of the principles.

"When I wake," said the handsome brown face, "I'll read that this many people
asked about the economy, and how they asked it, and what they think we should be
doing. All that in an abbreviated form, of course. A person in my position needs
a lot of abbreviations, I'm afraid."

"Yes, sir." Stefan waited for a moment, then blurted, "I think you're doing a
good job with the economy, sir. I really do."

"Well," said the guest, "I'm very, very glad to hear it. I am."

At that moment, the genuine President Perez was inside a government hospital, in
a fetal position, suspended within a gelatin bath. Masses of bright new optical
cable were attached to his brain and fingers, mouth and anus, linking him
directly with the Net. Everything that he knew and believed was being blended
with his physical self, all elements reduced to a series of numbers, then
enlarged into a nationwide presence. Every household with an adequate projection
system and memory was being visited, as were public buildings and parks,
stadiums and VA facilities. If it was a success, press conferences would become