"Feintuch,.David.-.Seafort.05.-.Voices.Of.Hope.Txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feintuch David)

like flies on a trannie. I couldn't figure why he didn't Mem to mind.

Dad said, "Sorry, P.T., I forgot your holochips. Why don't you come over tonight
and—"

Footsteps, along the tiled hall. A light voice. "Kidnapping my son again?"

As Arlene Seafort appeared Dad's face lit with a smile he rarely offered me. But
I wasn't jealous. Soon I'd surprise them all.

"Not exactly. It's just... I mean, I—" Dad swallowed, shut his eyes. Silently, I
counted off five seconds with him. When his eyes opened they held a mischievous
glint. "Yes, I am. You won't see Philip again until he finishes my son's
homework."

I stared stonily at the window. Damn him; why cut me in front of the queen
bitch, just to tell me he knew about P.T.?

Her voice dropped. "How is he today?"

Dad glanced at the closed door. "Well... moody."

Arlene grimaced. "Tell me what I don't know." Her hand fell on Dad's arm.
"Sorry, Adam." She sounded weary.

"Trouble?" It was as if they had forgotten we were in the room.

"No more than usual. It's just..." Her gaze lit on P.T.S then on me, "We'll talk
later, perhaps." She bestowed a pretended frown on her son, though her tone held
no rebuke. "Philip, do your own work before you, ah, watch Jared do his,"

"Yes, ma'am."

She ruffled P.T.'s hair as she left. "Adam, join me for a drink after dinner."

"I'd like that,"

I caught P.T.'s eye and grimaced. Granted, his Mom wasn't as bad as most
seniorcits, though she had a mania for physical fitness, a carryover from her
military days. But hearing her with Dad was like a holodrama from the Romantic
Ages.

"The Vegan resettlement?"

"Who cares." I rolled over on the bed. P.T. sat at my puter, ready to translate
my ideas into respectable prose. The arrangement suited us both; it wasn't my
fault Philip was far ahead of his tutors, while I got nothing but drudge work.
What good was general ed? Puters were useful, and a zark. Dull useless facts
weren't.