"FWLS58" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

in from nowhere. Beat Box really jams at top velocity, the
guitar screaming its way around corners and through the suburban
landscape, causing millions of Burbies to call the cops because
of the noise. Fuck 'em : I like my music.

I pull ninety without slowing down, Beat Box's tires hugging
the curve as the guitar solos away. I can hear the dogs bark
from their little red doghouses, and I bark right back; voice
copying and playback, mixed in with the speed metal.

The HUD map on my windshield blinks red; I'm getting warmer.
The guitars slam into some really high notes, encouraging more
gas as I roar around the intersections.

SCREEEE!!! go the tires and the music as I swerve to avoid
some idiot's Traffic Smasher. You don't wanna hit those things.
Ordinary crappy imports are okay, but a Traffic Smasher's denser
than lead. Even Beat Box can't handle flattening those.

There's the house; 4565 Terrincoat Lane. Slam the brakes
and the bass guitar stutters down to a halt, the drums crashing
in behind it. Beat Box is now officially a body at rest, and
reflects this in the soothing elevator-type music it plays just
to annoy me.

It works, and I kick the IMuse unit under the dash a few
times. The elevator screams down the shaft and crashes at ground
floor, giving me the silence I require to make the delivery.

I grab the pizza out of the Keep-Haut oven and hop out,
shutting Beat Box's door behind me. Typical suburban road; if it
wasn't for the HUD map, no way I'd have picked this house out of
the rat's nest of cloned housing.

Walk past the guy's tacky lawn ornaments (one of which seems
to have been crushed by the bass as Beat Box drove up... big
deal, stone dwarfs are a dime a dozen) and ring the bell.

Guy opens the door wearing a ski mask and packing a blaster.

"Speedy Pizza," I say. "That'll be twenty not including
tip."

"Gimmie the keys," the mask says, waggling the gun at me.
"I'm getting out of here."

"Let me guess," I say, spinning the pizza box on a finger.
"Robbed the joint and wanted a get-away car, so you call us,
knowing we'll get it there in five minutes or less. Yavole?"