"Michael Swanwick - Trojan Horse" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swanwick Michael)night was coming; the agtechs flicked the daylight switch off and on twice in warning.
"It was real, Tory. She talked with me; I'm not making it up." Tory ran a hand through his dark, curly hair, looking distracted. "Well, assuming that my professional opinion was wrong-and I'll be the first to admit that the program is a bit egocentric-I still don't think we have to stoop to mysticism for an explanation." To the far side of Magritte, a waterfall was abruptly shut off. The stream of water scattered, seeming to dissolve in the air. "I thought you said she was God." "I only said that to bait Landis. I don't mean that she's literally God, just godlike. Her thought processes are a mil-lion years more efficiently organized than ours. God is just a convenient metaphor." "Um. So what's your explanation?" "There's at least one terminal on the island-the things are everywhere. She probably programmed it to cut into the intercom without the channels seeming to be open." "Could she do that?" "Why not? She has that million-year edge on us-and she used to be a wetware tech; all wetware techs are closet computer hacks." He did not look at her, had not looked at her for some time. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html "Hey." She reached out to take his hand. "What's wrong with you tonight?" "Me?" He did not meet her eyes. "Don't mind me. I'm just sulking because you took the job. I'll get over it." |
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