"FWLS10" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

I perused the list of destinations. ..',,.' leads to
.'.`.'`.`',`,.', and .'`.' leads to .`.'`.'`... bah, they never
get the dot placement right in this lousy building. Poorly
written Murflan script can result in wild mis-translation. I
really wish the government hadn't switched to this writing system
fifty years ago, it's too hard to screw up.

I hazarded that the Fish Dispensing department was just a
badly written Form Dispensing department, pushed that button, and
rematerialized elsewhere.

Alright, I've been here before. Mental map? Turn left...
turn right... straight... third door.

"Ah.... ohh... what the--?"

"HEY! GET OUT OF HERE!" Slam.

So that's why the phones are always busy. Hmmm. Someone
from Mating Ethics ought to look into this place. I would have
thought that configuration was impossible, even with the
fiberglass.

Ah, NOW I remember, it's the fourth door. Tap the pad,
watch it slide, enter the room.

Seventeen clerks madly rushing about collecting papers in
trays, and punching various buttons on the wall. Considering
that all form requests are shuttled through this one room, these
people are probably overworked. Argue ethic dictates to be
short, to the point, and only mildly annoyed with someone on the
verge of cracking themselves. It's only fair.

"Form B:767 stroke alpha. That's it," I said to the least-
moving clerk.

"Sit," he ordered. "Well get to it in a minute. CLARA, why
aren't you getting these Y:G:3578s in quadruplicate as
requested?!?"

"I hit the wrong button--"

"Pay more attention next time! Philler! Get these useless
forms to recycling!"

"Recycling chute's jammed!"

"UNJAM it!"

"Will SOMEBODY give me a match?" Philler shouted.