"Matt Ruff - Set This House in Order" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ruff Matt)

I went to Mr. Weeks's office and told him I was quitting. He nodded, as if he'd been expecting
this, and said that he hoped I'd consider getting professional substance-abuse counseling. I told him I
would think about it -- another stock response I'd picked up from my father -- and went back out on the
Warehouse floor to finish out the day. That was when I met Julie Sivik.
When she found me I was up on a ladder in Aisle 7, rearranging boxes on the overstock shelf.
Even though I'd given my notice I was still interested in learning about computers, and my father and I
were having a pretty involved discussion about graphical user interfaces, so Julie had to say "Excuse me"
several times to get my attention.
"Hello," I said, when I finally noticed her. I slid down the ladder and brushed my hands on my
shirt. "Can I help you?"
 At first glance she was a little intimidating. She was a couple of inches taller than I was, with
broader shoulders. She wore a brown leather jacket over a black T-shirt and dark jeans; her hair was
dark too, very straight and severe, collar-length. And she had an annoyed look on her face, like she'd
already decided I must be dense. I'd seen that look on other customers' faces, but Julie was better at
expressing annoyance than most people, as if something in her features allowed for clearer transmission
of impatience.
"I'm looking for some tax-preparation software," she said, holding up a short stack of
shrink-wrapped boxes. "I was wondering which of these you'd recommend."
"Ask her what she wants to use it for," my father said, and I relayed the question: "What do you
want to use it for?"
Julie looked at me as if I were very, very dense. "For preparing my taxes," she said. "Obviously."
"Personal income tax or small business?" my father said.
"Personal income tax or small business?" I asked.
"Oh. . ." Julie's expression softened. "That makes a difference?"
"Well. . ." I began, and then paused while my father filled me in. "Well," I continued, "if all you're
looking for is a program that can fill out a 1040, then I'd probably suggest that one." I pointed to the box
at the top of the stack. "Because. . . because it's the least expensive, very basic but with a good tutorial,
as long as you don't need any specialized forms. . . On the other hand, if you're self-employed or running
a small business, you'll probably need something more sophisticated. . . You're not a farmer, are you?"
Even as I asked this question, following my father's prompting, I wondered what was so special about
farmers' taxes. But Julie wasn't in agriculture, so I never got a chance to find out.
"But I am starting my own business," she said. "And I've also got to fill out a personal 1040 for
last year, so I guess what I need is --"
"Wait," I interrupted her, holding up a finger. My father was saying something else now.
"Wait?" said Julie.
"Just a second. . ."
The annoyed look resurfaced on Julie's face. "What the hell am I waiting on?" she demanded.
"My father," I told her.
"Your father?"
"Oh great," said Adam, who'd joined my father in the pulpit. "This should be entertaining."
"Your father?" Julie repeated.
"Yes, my father."
She made a show of checking to see if there was someone standing behind me, first leaning
sideways, then going up on tiptoe to peer over the top of my head. "Where?" she finally said.
"In the pulpit," I told her, after a quick backward glance of my own.
"Pulpit?"
"It's a sort of balcony, on the front of the house. In my head."
"What are you, schizophrenic?" Julie said.
"No, I'm a multiple personality. Schizophrenia is different."
"A multiple personality. You have other personalities sharing your body."