"FWLS32" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

"SMURF?" Max yelled at him, starting to get up on the table
and pounce on his back. Nad and Monk knew an enraged Murfle when
they saw one, and cautiously grabbed an arm each. "COME BACK
HERE AND CALL ME A 'SMURF' AGAIN, WHY DON'T YOU?!?"

"Max, please, you're scuffing up the table," Nad commented
in distaste. Max scowled and slumped back into his seat,
grumbling. "Now I'd suggest that we all head back to work for
now and mull it over. We can't reject it or sell until two days
time. And please, let's not resort to petty bickering! We're
proud residents of the Anarchy Zones. Resort to backstabbing and
treachery instead. Sheesh, some people have no ethics."

*

I couldn't sleep that night. I even tried the traditional
Saren Sleep Chant, ("Early to bed makes for alert morning
salesmen and higher afternoon profits") but it didn't work very
well. I tried some of that red stuff with the Q on the bottle,
but it just made me kinda woozy, and I had to take a Soh-BER-U-Yp
pill to keep from throwing up.

At first I thought that the whole idea of selling the Port
was a joke. I mean, Port Hades had been in business for two
decades, and had served to the elite in the underground. Heck, I
had signed black-and-white holos on the walls of the Saloon to
prove it. "Try the apple pie, it's the best! -- Nick S."
"Whenever I get a chance to sneak out, I always visit the Emerald
Saloon! -- President D." "The Emerald Saloon has too much
satanic imagery. -- C. Larson." It's been a great business.

Wait, that's past tense. It IS a great business. Sure,
business itself has been slacking off a bit, but that's
understandable, since the whole galaxy is in a bit of a
recession. Less cargo convoys to blow up or loot, fewer black
market goods, less information for sale. These things come and
go.

Really, the only person here diehard in selling is Doc.
He's got every right to be bitter, though... the Infirmary
doesn't get very much business. Either someone gets thier
revenge, or they don't bother. Very efficient, somewhat
admirable in a way. But if he convinces everybody else that the
Port is a deathtrap...

Well, that won't happen. It can't, really, I mean nobody'd
SERIOUSLY sell the port, would they?

Beepity beep, my door chimed. I shrugged, figuring since I
couldn't sleep, a little chitchat would be nice, and pulled on a