"Bruce Sterling - Heavy Weather" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sterling Bruce)

sitting there among its fellow machines, much overshadowed.
Alex examined the p hone's antique, poorly designed push-button
interface or a long groggy moment. The phone buzzed again,
insistently. He dropped the inhaler mask and leaned across the bed,
with a twist, and a rustle, and a pop, and a groan. He pressed the
tiny button denominated ESPKR.
"Hola," he puffed. His gummy larynx crackled and shrieked, bringing
sudden tears to his eyes.
"~Quien es?" the phone replied.
"Nobody," Alex rasped in English. "Get lost." He wiped at one eye and
glared at the phone. He-had no idea how to hang up.
"Alex!" the p hone said in English. "Is that you?"
Alex blinked. Blood was rushing through his numbed flesh. Beneath the
sheet, his calves and toes began to tingle resentfully.
"I want to speak to Alex Unger!" the phone insisted sharply. "~D├│nde
estd?"
"Who is this?" Alex said.
"It's Jane! Juanita Unger, your sister!"
"Janey?" Alex said, stunned. "Gosh, is this Christmas? I'm sorry,
Janey. . .
"What!" the phone shouted. "It's May the ninth! Jesus, you sound
really trashed!"
"HeyтАв. . ." Alex said weakly. He'd never known his sister to phone
him up, except at Christmas. There was an ominous silence. Alex
blearily studied the cryptic buttons on the speakerphone. RDIAL,
FLAS, PROGMA. No clue how to hang up.The open ph one line sat there
eavesdropping on him, a torment demanding response. "I'm okay,"
heprotested at last. "How're you, Janey?"
"Do you even know what year this is?" the phone demanded. "Or where
you are?"
"Uinm . . . Sure . . ." Vague guilty panic penetrated his medicated
haze. Getting along with his older sister had never been Alex's
strong suit even in the best of times, and now he felt far too weak
and dazed to defend himself. "Janey, I'm not up for this right now. .
. . Lemme call you back.. .
"Don't you dare hang up on me, you little weasel!" the phone
shrieked. "What the hell are they doing to you in there? Do you have
any idea what these bills look like?"
"They're helping me here," Alex said. "I'm in treatment. ... Go
away."
"They're a bunch of con-artist quacks! They'll take you for every
cent you have! And then kill you! And bury you in some goddamned
toxic waste dump on the border!"
Juanita's shrill assaultive words swarmed through his head like
hornets. Alex slumped back into his pillow heap and gazed at the
slowly turning ceiling fan, trying to gather his strength. "How'd you
find me here?"
"It wasn't easy, that's for sure!"
Alex grunted. "Good . .
"And getting this phone line was no picnic either!"