"DiChario-Drainage" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dichario Nicholas A)

"Just fix the drain. Damn Water Authority. Ever since they converted to that
NYNEX monstrosity computer system, my plumbing hasn't worked right."

"The Industrial Revolution is over, Furf Welcome to the Information Age.
Supercomputers with teraflops speed, robotic links, sensory-response units. Man
has to learn how to interact. That NYNEX will pay for itself in no time.
California is already using something similar. Its cost-performance ratio is out
of this world."

Not too long ago, Cid had loaned Delsey an article about the Water Authority's
new NYNEX computer, "A communications transference modem miracle." Multiplex
networking had arrived! the article lauded, a supercomputer advanced enough to
upgrade circuit switching to something called packet switching, a system capable
of handling huge chunks of data in microbursts, up to ten million bits per
second, translate the information and deliver it in consumable packets faster
than you could sneeze to any on-line sub station with a receiving unit as Stone
Age as a modem. It could open and close valves in an electronic blink, siphon a
reservoir or cut off water flow to a main break within nanoseconds. Microbursts
had dissolved the span between decision making and response time to near
nothing. And yet drains still clogged and toilets continued to back up.

The telephone rang. Delsey tossed the magazine aside and picked up the receiver;
it was his editor from Rock Disc.

"I've got an interview set up for you with Lou Reed two hours before the show
tonight," Eidelstein said. "Seven o'clock at the Hilton. Can you make it?"

"Of course."

"Good -- oh, and Furl, I'm expecting something hot from you, right? I know
you've been riding some rough waters lately, with the wife bailing out and all,
but you've got to put it behind you, man. Your last couple of pieces have been,
well, let's face it, unambitious, disappointing. I want it fresh. I run
progressive magazine. No trite, press-kit prose. But I don't need to remind you
of that, do I, Furf?"

"Not to worry. I've already got some great stuff sketched out." Alie. But a bold
one.

"Looking forward to it. Don't let me down. I'm going out on a limb for you. If
it's hot, I'm talking nuclear, I'll give you the cover."

Delsey hung up the phone. A cover story in Rock Disc magazine might spare his
ego and his checking account any further embarrassments, at least for a couple
more months.

"How about I patch those loose bricks on your front walk when I'm done here?"
Cid mopped the sweat from his forehead with a rag that had been, in its prior
life, a pair of jockey shorts. "Somebody trips, hurts himself, he'll sue the ass