"Michael Swanwick - Tin Marsh" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swanwick Michael)

She hit YES.

For an instant, nothing happened.

MESSAGE NOT SENT

тАЬShit!тАЭ She tried it again. MESSAGE NOT SENT A third time. MESSAGE
NOT SENT A fourth. MESSAGE NOT SENT She ran a trouble-shooting program,
and then sent the message again. MESSAGE NOT SENT

And again. And again. And again.

MESSAGE NOT SENT

MESSAGE NOT SENT

MESSAGE NOT SENT

Until the suspicion was so strong she had to check.
 There was an inspection camera on the back of her suitтАЩs left hand. She held it
up so she could examine the side of her helmet.

MacArthur had broken off the uplink antenna.

тАЬYou jerk!тАЭ She was really angry now. тАЬYou shithead! You cretin! You
retard! YouтАЩre nuts, you know that? Crazy. Totally whack.тАЭ

No answer.

The bastard was ignoring her. He probably had his suit on auto-follow. He
was probably leaning back in his harness, reading a book or watching an old movie
on his visor. MacArthur did that a lot. YouтАЩd ask him a question and he wouldnтАЩt
answer because he wasnтАЩt there; he was sitting front row center in the theater of his
cerebellum. He probably had a tracking algorithm in the navigation system to warn
him if she turned to the north or south, or started to get too far ahead of him.

LetтАЩs test that hypothesis.

SheтАЩd used the tracking algorithm often enough that she knew its specs by
heart. One step sidewards in five would register immediately. One in six would not.
All right, then ... LetтАЩs see if we can get this rig turned around slowly, subtly, toward
the road. She took seven strides forward, and then half-step to the side.

LASER HAZARD

Patang hastily switched on auto-walk. So that settled that. He was watching
her every step. A tracking algorithm would have written that off as a stumble. But
then why didnтАЩt he speak? To make her suffer, obviously. He must be bubbling over
with things to say. He must hate her almost as much as she did him.