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

harsh sun.

Szandor hastily cabled a projector/loudhailer apparatus to the collector.
Szandor's dog nipped at his heels as he steadied and focused the apparatus on
the screen, and Szandor plugged his comm into it and powered it up.

There was a staticky pop as the speakers came to life, loud enough to be heard
over the street noise. The powerful projector beamed its image onto the screen,
bright even in the midday glare.

There were hoots from the crowd as they recognised the feed: a live broadcast of
the keynote addresses in the Centre. The Patron Ik'Spir Pat's hoverchair
prominent. The camera lingered on the Patron's eyes, the only part of him
visible from within the chair's masking infrastructure. They were startling,


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silvery orbs, heavy-lidded and expressionless.

The camera swung to Hershie. Szandor spat dramatically and led a chorus of
hisses.

Hershie hastily closed his comm and cleared his throat, adjusted his mic, and
addressed the crowd.

#

"Uh. . ." he said. His guts somersaulted. Time to go big or go home.

"Hi." That was better. "Thanks. I'm the Super Man. For years, I worked alongside
UN Peacekeeping forces around the world. I hoped I was doing good work. Most of
the time, I suppose I may have been."

He caught the eye of Brenda, the cheerful Texan who'd booked him in. She looked
uneasy.

"There's one thing I'm certain of, though: it's that the preparation for war has
never led to anything _but_ war. With this show, you ladies and gentlemen are
participating in a giant conspiracy to commit murder. Individually, you may not
be evil, but collectively, you're the most amoral supervillain I've ever faced."

Brenda was talking frantically into her comm. His mic died. He simply expanded
his mighty diaphragm and kept on speaking, his voice filling the ballroom.

"I urge you to put this behind you. We've entered into a new era in human
history. The good Patron here offers the entire Universe; you scurry around,
arranging the deaths of people you've never met.