"Weiner-PurplePill" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weiner Andrew)

get another coffee."

"Is that the cereal commercial?"

"Feminine hygiene. At least, I think it was."

He closed his eyes briefly in thought, and saw a brightly decorated face staring
back at him. His eyes jerked open and his head snapped back.

"You all right, Barry?" Nora asked.

"I'm fine," he said. "And this is another perfect day."

He got up and began the long trek to the coffee machine.

FOUR

"Cogan," the voice said. It was a man's voice, a rich baritone. "We need to
talk, Cogan."

Shit, Conway thought. Not again.

He was lying on a couch in a dimly lit room. He could not see anyone else in the
room with him.

He had stayed at work until ten that night, finishing up the Fairfax
storyboards. He had left the work on Jackman's desk, then taken the elevator
down to the ground floor, where the security guard had called him a cab. The cab
had arrived and he had stepped out through the door and . . .

And what? He could not recall.

I'm asleep, he thought. Nodding off in the cab, or maybe back home with Alice.

Deliberately, he pinched himself on the thigh. He felt a tingle of pain. But he
was still lying on the couch in the dimly lit room.

"This is no dream, Cogan," the voice said. "Pinching yourself won't help at
all."

"Where are you?" he asked, peering into the shadows in the corners of the room.
"I can't see you."

The voice laughed, a touch theatrically.

"I'm everywhere in this ship, Cogan. And nowhere."

"Don't tell me," he said. "Let me guess. You're the ship's computer, right?"

"So it's coming back to you."