"Charles Stross - A Boy And His God" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stross Charles)

"Here's your very own user-manual," said Moon, beaming as he handed Howie a leatherbound copy of
the Necronomicon; "remember, Old Ones don't like sunlight, they need a plentiful supply of water and a
bit of fresh blood from time to time, and don't let it get at the neighbours' daughter. You know, the girl
next door? Good boy! Have a nice day!"

He continued beaming even as the sweating porters levered the tarpaulin-draped crate into the back of
the car and Sophie signed the Amex voucher. His smile only slipped when he saw the happy family
drive away. He shook his head dolefully. "There goes another one, Ron, he said. Misers don't wanna
know about the big stuff ..."

"Well hell, ya got to hand it to them," said Ron, propping his feet up on the desk and putting down his
pen -- Ron fancied himself as a writer of science fiction -- "at least they took it off of our hands! Now
you --" he jabbed his fingers at Moon -- "when're you gonna take advantage of our staff discount
scheme?" He winked, an affected nautical mannerism that irritated the hell out of Moon.

Moon considered. "Well, there's this contemporary goddess I've been thinking about recently," he said.
"Name of Norma Jean ..."

The Phillips family arrived home and the installation of Shub-junior -- or Junior as he rapidly became
known -- proceeded smoothly. Juniper's kennel was the obvious home, given Junior's glutinous
propensities, and Fred insisted that Mom lay down the law before Howie could go play with his new pet.

"Remember," said Mom, finger poised before her face; "Junior's not to get on the carpet! Your Dad will
have a fit if he sees goop all over the staircase, and he's not allowed in the kitchen either. You'll have to
walk him at night; and remember you mustn't pray to him. That's almost as bad as sacrificing."

"Why can't I pray to him if I want to?" demanded Howie, staring up at Sophie and trying to figure what
Junior would make of his new red skateboard.



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 A Boy and his God

"You musn't ever worship a God," she said; "it's very important. If you worship them they get more and
more powerful until they start telling you to do unreasonable things. Once everybody worshipped their
gods, and things were really bad. Only now we know better." She grinned with satisfaction, speculating
about her son's need for a pre-adolescent bonding ritual.

Howie picked his nose, deeply puzzled. Surely you needed two legs to balance on a skateboard ..? "Yes,
but if I can't worship my very own god, what can I pray to?" he asked.

"Conspicuous consumption," said Fred, backing into the kitchen with a heap of frozen microwave apple
pies on a tray. "Gods all promise jam tomorrow; at least this way you get to have your cake and eat it!"

He laughed as he tied on his apron. "You just go play with your deity," he said. "Lunch in twenty, right?"

After their first ecstatic bonding, Howie and Junior were was as inseperable as any boy and god could
be. On many summer evenings you could look outside after dusk and see the two of them bounding