"Christopher Stasheff - St Vidicon to the Rescue" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stasheff Christopher)

"Thanks." Tony stepped over and sank down into plush so thick it seemed to embrace himтАФnot an
entirely pleasant experience. He took advantage of the opportunity to give the reception area a more
thorough examination. Everything screamed "Now!" and "Rich!" The receptionist's desktop was thick
glass, its legs chrome; the floor was thick burgundy carpet with such a deep pile that it had to be
synthetic. The only organic note was the walnut panelling, and it seemed out of place. Rich, but out of
place. The room was obviously designed to impress visitors with the firm's wealth and stability, both
rather necessary on Wall Street.

A young woman came in, and Tony forgot to breathe for a minute or two. She was beautiful, that
was all there was to it, from the auburn hair cut in a sleek bob to the tailored jacket and skirt that let
eighteen inches of shapely calf show above the slender shoes. But it was her face that really caught
Tony's attention, the look of a pixie grown upтАФand she was coming toward him!

"Mr. Ricci?" She held out a hand. "I'm Sandra Clavier, the company's network administrator."

Tony stood and took her hand as his stomach sank; network administrators didn't like calling for
help. If you had to bring in an outside specialist, it meant you didn't know everything about your job.
Normally it didn't bother him, but the other people he dealt with weren't quietly gorgeous. Nonetheless,
he managed to screw up his courage, and say, "Puh-pleased to meet you, Ms. Clavier."

"Call me Sandy," she invited, "and if you can make our computers work smoothly again, I'll be

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very pleased to have met you." She turned toward the door.

"I'll show you to a cubicle where you can work, if you'll follow me."

Tony would have followed her anywhere for the sheer joy of it. The graceful sway was hypnotizing
and made him feel like a lumbering elephant as he followed.

Well, no, a lumbering log was more like itтАФTony was lean, at least; all his working out did that
much for him. Other than that, following a fascinating creature like this, he felt awkward and weird, like
a gargoyle in a jacket and tie. His hair was the color of straw and not much more manageable; he knew
his nose was too long, his eyes too narrow, and his chin too much of a lump. He might not be all that bad
to look at most of the time, but compared to Sandra Clavier, he must be downright ugly.

She led him through a door and into a huge room filled with standard-issue cubicles. She navigated
the maze with ease and stopped by a gray-walled enclosure like all the rest, except that it held only a
chair, desk, and filing cabinet; the desktop was bare, and so were the walls. "We cleared one for you to
work with," Ms. Clavier said. "If there's anything else you need, just give me a call; I'm extension two-
eight-four-one."

'Two-eight-four-one," Tony repeated, that being all he could think of to say, and sat down so that he
would look a little less awkward. He should have booted the desktop, but that would have required
looking away from her. "You've been having interruptions in service?"

"Yes, the strangest kind." Sandy frowned, and Tony stopped breathing again. "I've never seen a