"Mary Rosenblum - Search Engine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rosenblum Mary)

Search Engine
Mary Rosenblum
From Gardner Dozois - The Year's Best Science Fiction 23rd Annual Collection (2006)
One of the most popular and prolific of the new writers of the nineties, Mary Rosenblum made her
first sale, to Asimov's Science Fiction, in 1990, and has since become one of its most frequent
contributors, with almost thirty sales there to her credit. She has also sold toThe Magazine of
Fantasy d 1 Science Fiction, Science Fiction Age, Pulphouse, New Legends, and elsewhere.

Rosenblum produced some of the most colorful, exciting, and emotionally powerful stories of the
nineties, earning her a large and devoted following of readers. Her linked series of "Drylands"
stories have proved to be one ofAsimov's most popular series, but she has also published
memorable stories such as "The Stone Garden," "Synthesis," "Flight," "California Dreamer,"
"Casting at Pegasus," "Entrada," "Rat," "The Centaur Garden," "Skin Deep," "Songs the Sirens
Sing," and many, many others. Her novella "Gas Fish" won theAsimov's Readers Award in 1996,
and was a finalist for that year's Nebula Award. Her first novel, The Drylands, appeared in 1993
to wide critical acclaim, winning the prestigious Compton Crook Award for Best First Novel.
That was followed in short order by her second novel,Chimera, and her third, The Stone Garden.
Her first short story collection, Synthesis and Other Virtual Realities, was widely hailed by critics
as one of the best collections of 1996. Her most recent books are a trilogy of mystery novels
written under the name Mary Freeman, and coming up is a new science fiction novel,Horizons. A
graduate of Clarion West, Mary Rosenblum lives in Portland, Oregon.

Much ink has been spilled in recent years worrying about the erosion of privacy caused by
computers, but as the disquieting story that follows indicates, hold onтАФyou ain't seennothing yet!

A man's eyelids twitched as the tiny skull and crossbones icon flashed across his retinal screen. Uh-oh.
He blinked away the image and scowled at the office door. The feds. "Sit tight and pay attention," he said
to the new kid sitting in the chair beside the desk.
"What's up?" New Kid leaned forward. But the door was already opening, the soft whisper as it slid
aside a reassurance that this was a high-end operation, that your money was being spent wisely. The
real-life, physical office, the expensive woolen carpet and real wood furniture echoed that reassurance.
No sleazy, virtual private eye hereтАж you were at the top of the ladder in a hard office.
Not that the suit cared. He took off his shades, slipped 'em into the pocket of his very well made
business tunic and fixed icy gray eyes on Aman's face. If he didn't like what he saw, he was too well
trained to let it show. "Mr. Boutros." The suit didn't offer his hand, sat down immediately in the chair
across from the desk. Cast New Kid a single pointed glance. Jimi. Aman remembered his name at last.
Raul's latest, given to him to baby-sit and maybe even train.

"My assistant." Aman put finality in the tone. New Kid stays. He kept his body language relaxed and
alpha, waited out the suit's evaluation of his options. Inclined his head at the suit's very slight nod. He had
won that round. You won when you could. "How may I help you?"

The suit pulled a small leather case from inside his tunic, slipped a tiny data disk from it. Without a word,
Aman extended a port. Clients did not store their files on the net. Not if they were paying Search
Engine's fees. The disk clicked into place and Aman's desktop lit up. A man's head and shoulders
appeared in the holofield, turning slowly. Medium-dark, about twenty, mixed Euro/African and Hispanic
genes, Aman noted. About the same phenotype as New KidтАФJimiтАФa history of war, rape, and pillage
made flesh. The runner's scalp gleamed naked, implanted with fiberlight gang-sign. Aman read it and
sighed, thinking of his fight with Avi over his fiberlights. Tattoo your political incorrectness on your body
for the cops, son. Just in case they don't notice you on their own. Stupid move, Avi. That hadn't been the