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

Once, there had been a black substance called "crude oil" under their
feet. Now those reserves were mostly drained, and solar cells were being
built on every free inch of the former oil-producing countries of the
Middle East. Many individuals like Gus, whose skills were not in demand,
made a decent living cleaning solar panels during nighttime.
"How's your day been?" he asked her.
"Same old, same old... sometimes I wake up in the morning and think: 'I
don't know if my life is going anywhere.' Then I take a shot of Pro-Pro
and I feel better."
Gus tossed the frisbee, and his dog darted off to catch it.
"Gus," she said, "I want to have a baby."


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He stopped in his tracks, and scratched his thick neck.
"Benazir... we've talked about this before. I like you... no, I guess I
love you, but... I'm not sure if we're able to raise a child together."
Benazir put a soft, bronzed hand on his large shoulder.
"Who said anything about raising it? I meant I want to have a baby, not
spend the better part of my life watching it grow."
Something about the way she said it made Gus feel hurt.
"That's not the way I was raised," he told her, trying not to sound
negative. Their relationship had lasted a record four years, and Gus had
learned that Benazir avoided anything "negative" - pain, duty, aging,
frustration. At least, he could satisfy her need for security - and
satisfaction.
"Well, you were raised by flesh parents," she pointed out with an
innocent smile. "I had a robot nanny."
Gus understood that she expected him to envy her. She remained
childlike at the age of thirty-nine, but so did billions of other
Terrans. He feared, deep down, that she stayed with him out of pity -
pity for growing up in poverty, for being more used to relating to
people than to machines.
"Don't look so glum, Gus. I was just teasing."
"It's not you. Gym's closing down. 'Not profitable anymore.' If I can't
fight good opponents anymore, I'm gonna get sloppy. And even if I'm not
beaten... my title has no meaning without challengers."
A red diode lit up on the woman's forehead-band. Benazir ceased
listening to him; she had plugged one ear and eye into her link-implant
to chat with her network of friends across the globe. She sent her
replies with thought-commands that controlled the transmitter in her
headband. Without turning off this line of communication, she waved at
one female friend who drifted down on the street in a small heli-pod.
"Hi, Gus!" shouted the other woman as she opened the door to the
transparent heli-pod. "Do you have time to join us at Plex Twenty-Four
tonight?" She made a gesture that might have been a proposal, but if so
it was too subtle for Gus to notice. Gus made a wave of his hand, and
put the cap on his head.