"David Brin - Fourth Vacation of George Gustaf" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brin David)

Gustaf knitted his brow. He glanced at the people who lined the sidewalks,
craning for a better view, waving when his glance came their way. He looked
seriously at Hamilton.
"I'd say it's because they are lonely, bored, and cut loose from their past.
Personally, I find it unfortunate that society hasn't found a way to fill this need. Not
everyone is as happy with the Total Social State as you and I. But then perhaps
you'll be the one to figure out this social dynamic, hmmm?"
A man came up leading a large roan stallion. Gustaf mounted. The spirited animal
snorted and pulled, but the robo-psychologist expertly calmed and brought it into
line.
Gustaf smiled at Hamilton.
"Personally, I get all the vicarious connection with the past I'll ever need. What
I'm really interested in is winning another honorary profession! You know how that
feels!"
He winked once again, then wheeled his stallion into line with a row of armored
men.
The procession was halfway to the cathedral before Cooper had a chance to
speak to Gustaf. When he did, it was with an arched eyebrow.
"If Your Grace will pardon me for asking, wasn't that just a little dangerous?"
Gustaf shrugged. He waved at the crowd and smiled. The stallion marched along
proudly.
"I don't think so, Farrell. After all, I didn't lie to him. Everything I said was the
literal truth."
Farrell Cooper frowned. "That fellow is not stupid, sir. Telling the truth in the
manner you did might be taken as patronizing, if he figured it out. He has power,
after a fashion, and could harm us if he tried."
"He won't." Gustaf grinned. "I trust Hamilton. He won't let us down."
"I hope you're right," Cooper muttered, dodging a sudden shower of rose petals.
Shouts greeted them on all sides as they rode, the skirling bagpipes leading the
way. Gustaf waved as he laughed.
"Don't be such a sourpuss, anyway, Farrell. The work week starts again on
Monday, and we all go back to our vocations. For now I'm enjoying my ancestors'
gift!"
"And if you had to enjoy that gift every day, for the rest of your life, Your
Grace?"
"Bite your tongue!"
"Yes, my liege."


It was the first time a polo game had ever sold out East Thames Stadium. In fact,
it was the first time a match had ever been played before a hundred and fifty
thousand spectators, plus a sizable video audience. The professional and amateur
sportscasters and pundits all attributed the revival to the recent notoriety of one of
the players.
 The man they were watching for waited until the second chucker to come out on
the field. When he rode out, guiding his eager bay with gentle touches of his knees, a
flag was run up along the sidelines. The crowd cheered ecstatically. The banner was
an intricate design based, Hamilton now knew, on the ancient "Union Jack," with
symbols in the corners that included a chrysanthemum, a lotus, a two-headed eagle,
and a fleur-de-lis.