"Christopher Stasheff - Warlock 09 - The Warlocks Companion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stasheff Christopher)

bureaucracy yet, or the arbitrary nature of its decisions. "Here, let me see." He shoved
his chair over to Bob's workstation and frowned at the screen, pursing his lips. "What
access code were you using?"
"RB-34h-Z." Bob shoved the manual over and pointed to the entry.
Jose let the smile show. "We quit making that model five years ago, Bob. The
RB-34h-Z series is a mile long now."
Bob frowned. "Then how am I supposed to know which one to call up?"
"The catalogue is supposed to appear on your screen automatically when you enter
the code."
"Then how come it didn't?"
"Because you're supposed to enter that code before you initiate the copying
procedure." Jose aborted the copy program, clearing the screen, then punched in
"RB-34H-Z." The screen lit up with a scrolling display on the left, while a note on the
right informed them that those models marked with an asterisk were still in production.
Bob frowned. "Why didn't the manual tell me about this?"
"Because the guy who wrote it is a cretin."
Bob just stared for a second, then smiled. "Well, not much I can say to that, is
there?"
"Other than asking why he keeps his job, no." Jose smiled. "Fact is, he was fired
last year, but they figure everybody who works here knows the routine, so they haven't
bothered to update the manual."
Bob sighed. "Makes it tough on a beginner, doesn't it?"
"That's why they mix you in with us old fogies." Jose was thirty-two. "NowтАФyou get
to guess which model you're supposed to load."
Bob's head came up; he stared, taken aback. "WhatтАж ? How the hell can IтАж ?"
"It's right here." Jose pointed to the fine print in the lower right-hand corner of Bob's
duty sheet.
Bob frowned. "I thought that was supposed to be the final code in the routine."
"Looks that way, doesn't it? But it's really the suffix you're supposed to enter after
RB-34h-Z."
"Then why don't theyтАжNo. Cancel that." Bob sighed. "They assume every
programmer who works here knows that, don't they?"
 Jose nodded. "The duty sheets are boilerplate. They just add the suffix and route it
to you."
Bob spread his hands and shook his head. "Well, now I know. Thanks, Jose."
"Anytime." Jose suppressed a smile again. "Call me the next time they foul you up."
Bob's grin followed him back to his own station. He smiled at the blank
screenтАФnothing to clear your own funk, like helping somebody else. He gave a
contented sigh and typed in "RUN COPY BRAIN."
The screen responded, "LOAD BRAINPAN," and Jose was off again. Now he
zipped through the program and had it all set up in ten minutes. He pressed "execute"
and sat back to smile and monitor the copying, making sure nothing went wrong.
Nothing did. It ran without a flaw. An hour later, the screen lit up the "END COPY"
light, then the query "ENGRAVE?" Jose nodded with satisfaction. The program had run
flawlessly; he entered "YES" and the computer cued the final changes in electrical
charges in the huge crystal below him, making the electronic matrix it had just copied a
permanent characteristic of the brain. The program was now impervious to flood, fire,
earthquakeтАФand electromagnetic fields of all sizes and strengths. The only thing that
could erase that program now would be an electrical charge so strong that it would
fuse the whole brain into a lump of slag. The screen lit up with "ENGRAVING