"Martha Soukup - Things Not Seen" - читать интересную книгу автора (Soukup Martha)

from there who knew him. I'll call around and get the scoop on him for you. You should talk to
Yonamura. Either she's the murderer, or she knows the other woman who's the murderer, or if something
on their project got him killed, she may know about that, too."

"Drobisch will never let her talk. And solving murders isn't my job."

"You're a spoilsport. I'm going to call around anyway."

Ginnie went to get more milk.



She threw the printouts aside. "Gah!"

"I beg your pardon?" said the robot.

"It was, um, an interjection," Ginnie said. "It wasn't directed at you. It was directed at this damn
documentation."

The robot was silent. It knew it did not have to answer a comment made to damn documentation, she
thought.

Or to a lack of damn documentation.

Biolnnovations had only been able to obtain the non-proprietary parts of the robot's software from its
designers, since for whatever reason they didn't want it known the robot had failed to prevent a murder.
Ginnie had called the guy she'd dated, the one with the voice, but he had only worked on the robot's
speech software. He was no help.

The software documentation the other company had supplied was terrible. She didn't think it had been
tampered with to help preserve trade secrets. She'd written too much overly hasty documentation herself.

She was looking in particular for a programming kludge that might have been written in to fix a bug the
earlier programmers couldn't find, what she called the Use a Bigger Hammer school of programming.
She'd done it herself, though never as sleazily as the programmer who, faced with a program that
unaccountably would sometimes add two and two to make five, inserted code that said, If 2 + 2 = 5,
then 5 = 4.

Anything that obvious would leap out at her, but it wasn't likely to he that obvious.

She also had to look for sabotage. So far the robot appeared to work the way it was supposed to, with
no signs of tampering.

If she were actually working on solving the murder, rather than trying to find an invisible bug in a
Byzantine robot, that could be interesting.

She leaned back in her desk chair. It creaked. "I've been listening to George too much." The robot
swiveled to focus its attention on her. "I'm going to check on something," she told it. "Don't go
anywhere."