"Michael Swanwick - Trojan Horse" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swanwick Michael)

for." She touched Elin's shoulder reassuringly, called back to the crowd huddling about Tory, "Hey! One
of you loopheads-somebody there know any programming? Get the lady out of this."



A tech scurried up, made a few simple adjustments with her machinery. The others-still gathering, Landis
had been only the third on the scene-were trying to hold Tory still, to fit a bone inductor against his neck.
There was a sudden gabble of comment, and Tory flopped wildly. Then a collec-tive sigh as his muscles
eased and his convulsions ceased.



"There," the tech said, and Elin scrabbled off the couch.



She pushed through the people (and a small voice in the back of her head marveled: A crowd! How
strange) and knelt before Tory, cradling his head ift her arms.



He shivered, eyes wide and unblinking. "Tory, what's the matterV



His terrible eyes turned on her. "Nichevo."



"What?"



"Nothing," Landis said. "Or maybe 'it doesn't matter' is a better translation."
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A wetware tech had taken control, shoving the crowd back. He reported to Landis, his mouth moving
calmly under the interplay of green and red. "Looks like a flaw in the pro-gramming philosophy. We were
guessing that bringing the ego along would make God such an unpleasant experience that the subject
would let us deprogram, without interfering- now we know better."



Elin stroked Tory's forehead. His muscles clenched, then loosened as a medtech reprogrammed the
body responses. "Why isn't anyone doing anything?" she demanded.