"Cory Doctorow - The Super Man and Bugout" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dodd Christina)

account information right now, I could speed things up considerably, I'm sure.
I'm willing to make that effort, even though things are very busy here."

Hershie toyed with the idea of demolishing the man's office, turning his lovely
furniture into molten nacho topping, and finishing up by leaving the man
dangling by his suit from the CN Tower's needle. But his mother would kill him.
"I can't give you my secret identity," Hershie said, pleadingly. "It's a matter
of national security. I just need enough to pay my rent."

Woolley stared at the ceiling for a long, long time. "There is one thing," he
said.

"Yes?" Hershie said, hating himself for the note of hope in his voice.

"The people at DefenseFest 33 called my office yesterday, to see if I'd appear
as a guest speaker with the Patron Ik'Spir Pat. I had to turn them down, of
course -- I'm far too busy right now. But I'm sure they'd be happy to have a
veteran of your reputation in that slot, and it carries a substantial
honorarium. I could call them for you and give them your comm. . .?"

Hershie thought of Thomas, and of the rent, and of his mother, and of all the
people at the Belquees who'd stared mistrustfully at him. "Have them call me,"


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he sighed. "I'll talk to them."

He got to his feet, the toe of his boot squelching out more dirt pudding.

#

"Hershie?"

"Yes, Mama?" She'd caught him on the way home, flying high over the fleabag
motels on the old Highway 2.

"It's Friday," she said.

Right. Friday. He told her he'd come for dinner, and that meant getting there
before sunset. "I'll be there," he said.

"Oh, it's not important. It's just me. Don't hurry on my account -- after all,
you'll have thousands of Shabbas dinners with your mother. I'll live forever."

"I said I'll be there."

"And don't wear that costume," she said. She hated the costume. When the
Department of Defense had issued it to him, she'd wanted to know why they were