"personal demons" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fowler Christopher)

'Hard to explain.' The officer pulled a pen from her hair and scrubbed something out on a form. 'I don't have any figures. Deadlines produce stress, which increases blood pressure, causes headaches, heartburn, sleep disorders... standard stuff. But there's an instability here. People overreact, flare up, lose their tempers, burst into tears. It's something peculiar to this building. You know the hand dryers in the toilets? They're supposed to be more hygienic. They're not. They incubate bacteria. You can get pneumonia from them. Nobody really knows what's good for you. Or what's harmful. And my clock's running backwards.'
Ben was momentarily thrown. 'Sorry?'
'My computer clock. They shouldn't do that, should they? Run backwards?'
'Could you give me a print-out of the sickness figures?'
'It's against regulations. Haven't you read your manual? Head office don't like it.'
Ben fooled around with his computer, but any management files of importance were sealed with passwords. He tried different keys of his own devising, but nothing worked. He watched Marie at her desk. Knowing she could be seen, she crossed her long legs and gave him a sexy look. He drew a heart on a piece of paper and folded it into an airplane. Throwing it in her direction, he was dismayed to see it sucked into the air-conditioning unit that sat between them. The sun suddenly broke through the clouds, causing the photo-sensitised windows to compensate for the changing light density and darken, while the illuminated ceiling panels grew perversely brighter to compensate for the windows.
Ben despairingly studied his monitor, typing slowly, but his attention drifted to Felix's belongings. Rechecking the desk he felt something, a flat square stuck at the back of the bottom drawer. The computer disk was labelled Property of Matthew Felix. He pocketed it just as Clark appeared beside him.
'You never seem to be doing any work, Harper.'
'I was - going to ask your advice on the press releases,' said Ben. 'I take it we gloss over Mr Meadows' first diving lesson?'
Clark glowered at him. 'I don't like you, Harper. Why is that?'
'You haven't tried my cooking yet?'
'Just do your job and I won't have cause to lose my temper.'
Marie helped Ben load the disk after Clark had moved on. 'You'll need the password,' she warned. 'Everyone is expected to enter and remember their own five-letter code.'
'Didn't he tell you what his was?' asked Ben. 'I mean, you were friends.'
'I liked him, but I didn't exactly get inside his mind. Besides, we aren't supposed to tell each other things like that.'
'Then maybe he kept it written down somewhere. You okay?'
'It's nothing, just a headache. We'll have to keep looking.'
He studied Felix's belongings again, trying to make sense of it all. In a travelbag beneath the desk he found a dog-eared book of horoscopes. 'You'd think the police would have taken his belongings away.'
'They never came up here. Our security firm wouldn't let them.'
'What birth-sign was Felix?' he asked Marie.
'Gemini, I think.'
He flicked through the horoscope book to Gemini, and found a drawing of Janus. The Twin-Faced Guardian Of Doorways, Entrances And Beginnings, read the asterisked caption. He typed in 'Janus' and pressed ENTER. The disk started to open its files, but as quickly as it did, the contents corrupted. Damn the magnetics in this place...
One newspaper clipping was legible before the screen contents vanished. A photograph of the building captioned Father of 'smart' architecture commits suicide. Then the item dispersed into the ether.
'Maybe he realised something was wrong with the building and killed himself,' suggested Marie.
'Maybe somebody else realised something was wrong and shut him up.' They exchanged alarmed looks.
Swan suddenly appeared beside them, looking pleased with himself. 'Want to see something really strange?' he asked. Before they could reply, he unclipped the steel biro he kept in his jacket pocket and slapped it against the wall above Ben's desk. When he removed his hand, the pen stayed there by itself. 'Some days the whole blessed place is magnetised.'
'We need your help,' said Ben. 'Who designed this building?'
'That kind of information isn't available any more,' Swan complained. 'I'd be breaking company rules. Punishable by instant dismissal.'
'Who's going to know?'
'In an environment with total information control? Are you nuts? Look, it's not a good idea to get too involved with the work. You could lose your job, your credit rating, who knows what else. Those cameras up there probably lipread.'
'You're being paranoid.'
'You're right,' agreed Swan. 'That's good. It's healthy to be paranoid.'

The sun set beyond the vast windows as Paula, the typist, put down her coffee and slopped some of it on to her desk. Tutting with annoyance, she dug out a paper towel and started mopping up the mess. At her feet, one of the recessed floor plugs emitted sparks. Just beyond her field of vision, a wall circuit was scorching a live path to her computer, tiny white flashes jumping across the keyboard. The spilt coffee reached her mouse just as she mopped it. The resulting electric shock threw her across the room.
Several people saw the burning lines shortcircuiting in the walls, passing from one computer to the next, rendering each one live. 'Where's the mains switch?' someone shouted. 'Keep away from the machines!' Others just looked confused. Nobody moved.
But everyone stared at Ben as he stormed into Diana Carter's office. Carter was on the phone, and not pleased by the interruption. 'A girl just got electrocuted and everyone's carrying on as if nothing happened!' he shouted, pointing through the glass. 'Look at them!' The workforce was busily going about its business. 'This is gross negligence. There's something wrong with the electrics. We had to unplug the terminals.'
She eyed his dirty knees. 'Everyone is working very hard here, Harper. It's bad enough that half of my girls are off sick without you causing trouble. You're not allowed to tamper with the machines. It's against company policy.'
'We'll see about that,' said Ben, slamming out.

'One of my staff members, Mr Swan, brought the matter to my attention,' said Clark. 'He overheard Harper telling someone he'd lied his way into the job.'
'Christ, don't you think I have enough to worry about without this?' demanded Temple. 'We're taking orders from all over the world and yet our figures are down. How is that possible? The efficiency of our workforce is plunging. Inside the world's most efficient building. What the hell is going wrong? And now you tell me we have some kind oЂ a spy in our midst. Well, you'll have to deal with it. Nothing can screw up this presentation.'

The small chipboard door opened in the basement wall and a troll-like man of around sixty looked out. Snowy bristles sprouted from his eyebrows, nose and ears. 'I haven't seen you before,' said Hegarty, the caretaker, in a high, strangled voice. 'What are you?'
'Who am I?' asked Ben.
'No,' said Hegarty laboriously, 'what are you? Are you a drone or an executive?'
'Oh. Well, I've only just started.'
'Unsullied, eh? You'd better come in, then. Name?'
'Ben Harper.'
'Oh, the troublemaker. I've read the e-mail on you. How did you find me?'
'Oddly enough,' said Ben, 'I thought of the Wizard of Oz. The man behind the curtain operating the levers. Why would this building need a caretaker?'