"A. R. Yngve - Argus project" - читать интересную книгу автора (Yngve A. R)

title quickly to those zippy colonists. Or get killed. The territories
are much rougher than Mother Earth."
"Ali wouldn't have been scared of -"
"Here we go again!" the trainer chanted. "It's 'Ali' this, 'Ali'
that... when are you gonna stop living in the past, Gus?"
Gus replied with brooding silence, and stood up; six feet tall, he was
about average height for a 22nd-century Earthman. His muscular, broad-
shouldered frame stood out more than on most citizens - and rarer still,
his nose was broken, a reminder of his first major fight that he refused
to have fixed. Even the trainer had had all his injuries and scars
removed, and looked oddly baby-faced at his age of fifty-six.
"I gotta get to work," Gus said, climbed out of the ring, and headed
for the locker room.
The trainer made a half-hearted attempt to follow him, but gave up and
shrugged his shoulders to the other boxers. Their attention had been
alerted when Gus was knocked down - which astounded them - and now
fifteen of them were approaching the trainer with ominous looks on their
sweaty, red faces. The trainer began to talk faster.
"Sorry, boys and girls and she-boys, I can't control the open market!
In three or four months' time, The Giant Panda's Final Resting Grounds
company will turn the place into a funeral parlor for pets. Hey - calm
down! Look - I'm calling the cops..."
Panicking, he injected a shot of painkillers in his own arm and cowered
into a corner. Gus didn't stay around to watch the angry boxers beat up
the trainer. He loathed that kind of violence - and the "victim" could
easily patch himself up. He showered and dressed in his work dungarees,
picked up his bucket, then walked out through the back entrance.


Outside, a youthful-looking woman - all women looked youthful in this
city - was waiting. In the open place, she was tossing a frisbee after a
large Dalmatian dog. The dog leaped up on its hind legs and caught the
frisbee with its teeth. When the dog saw Gus come out, it barked and ran
up to him.
"Easy now, Giddog. I gotta take it easy, I was K-O'ed."
He patted the dog behind the ears and let it lick him his slightly
swollen chin. The woman made a worried face, came up closer to Gus and
felt his forehead.
"You took your painkillers?" she asked.
"Why?" he replied, stooped slightly, and gave her a peck on the cheek.
"Thanks for looking after him for me."
"Oh, it's just fun. I'd much rather take care of him, than watch you
getting punched out in that horrible, sweaty gym."
Gus pretended he hadn't heard her remark, for what seemed to him the
thousandth time. The three of them - Gus, the woman, and the dog - began
to walk together to the center plaza of the town, where Gus's night
shift was about to start. Around them, dusk fell over the city of Kuwait
- though one hardly noticed the darkness, with the holographic
projections up in the sky, lights from passing zeppelins and aircraft,
and the setting sun being reflected in a myriad solar panels.