"Charles Stross - Rogue Farm" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stross Charles)

my fresh fruit and brains. What's wrong with the world?"

They waited until the farm had retreated round the bend at the top of the hill. Maddie
was the first to relax, the rings retracting back into thearms of her battle dress, which
solidified from ethereal translucency to neutral olive drab as it powered down. Joe safed
his shotgun. "Bastard,"he said.

"Fucking A." Maddie looked haggard. "That was a bold one." Her face was white and
pinched-looking, Joe noted: her fists were clenched. She had the shakes, he realised
without surprise. Tonight was going to be another major nightmare night, and no
mistake.

"The fence." They'd discussed wiring up an outer wire to the CHP baseload from their
little methane plant, on again and off again for the past year.

"Maybe this time. Maybe." Maddie wasn't keen on the idea of frying passers-by without
warning, but if anything might bring her around it would be the prospect of being
overrun by a bunch of rogue farms. "Help me out of this and I'll cook breakfast," she
said.

"Got to muck out the barn," Joe protested.

"It can wait on breakfast," Maddie said shakily. "I need you."

"Okay." Joe nodded. She was looking bad; it had been a few years since her last fatal
breakdown, but when Maddie said I need you it was a bad idea to ignore her. That way
led to backbreaking labour on the biofab and loading her backup tapes into the new
body; always a messy business. He took her arm and steered her towards the back
porch. They were nearly there when he paused.

"What is it?" asked Maddie.

"Haven't seen Bob for a while," he said slowly. "Sent him to let the cows into the north
paddock after milking. Do you think --"

"We can check from the control room," she said tiredly. "Are you really worried ...?"

"With that thing blundering around? What do you think?"

"He's a good working dog," Maddie said uncertainly. "It won't hurt him. He'll be alright;
just you page him."

###

After Joe helped her out of her battle dress, and after Maddie spent a good long while
calming down, they breakfasted on eggs from their own hens, home-made cheese, and
toasted bread made with rye from the hippie commune on the other side of the valley.
The stone-floored kitchen in the dilapidated house they'd squatted and rebuilt together
over the past twenty years was warm and homely. The only purchase from outside the
valley was the coffee, beans from a hardy GM strain that grew likea straggling