"FWLS2" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

"Zipcode," Gosub addressed me as, which is fortunate seeing
as how it's my name, "When's this guy gonna leave? I'm sick of
sitting here all day waiting."

"Chill," I ordered in a calm, slack sort of way. "He's got
to change systems eventually. Once he does, we run an optic
probe in his door, click a holoshot of his defenses and we've got
him. Two days of planning and prepping the progs after that and
we're in, buddy."

Sitting in the bleak, flat, uninteresting VOSnet wasn't very
fun at all, I had to agree. Out in this part of the galaxy,
systems were pretty sparse, so you'd get vast expanses of blank
region before you came upon the polygonal shape that represented
someone's computer. In this case, the prof hadn't bothered with
any fancy rez art, just a white block of graphic with a simple
door. He obviously didn't expect anyone breaking in, or he
wouldn't have gone with something as unsecured as a door.

Bumping into someone in the net was very unlikely, which is
why I was very surprised when just that happened.

The guy tripped over my crouched-down form, toppling over
both me and the invisibility program I had placed in front of us.
I got a quick jab of pain, since negative feedback is one of the
many little quirks of the net we have to deal with.

The man looked about twenty, with a bleak, expressionless
face covered with perfectly ordinary features. His clothing
didn't speak marvels either, a cheap rez job of a simple t-shirt
and jeans. Everything about him spoke generic, harmless,
unimportant, not something to worry about. In other words, this
guy was probably danger personified, or else he wouldn't have
gone to such lengths to look perfectly normal in an environment
where you can look like anything you want to be.

"You guys want to be rich beyond your wildest dreams?" the
man said, scrambling to his feet.

"Yes," I said. What can I say, I'm no liar, and I can cope
with oddities like men running over me then offering me cash.
I'm not the sort of joeboy that sits around saying 'What?' or 'I
don't understand.' or 'Who are you?' when someone offers me money
money money. Only slowpokes did that, and you don't get to be a
good slicer if you're a snail.

"Great. Stop that daemon and we'll make a deal," the man
offered.

"Jeezus, what IS that thing?!?!" Gosub exclaimed, whirling