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

yeah. Beat Bike isn't fully completed, though. I'd recommend
you leave the IMuse box off while you ride. It might limit you."

"No can do," I say, mounting the black bike. "I'm gonna
need some hard-riding music if I'm going to catch this guy."

"But the mode selector's stuck," she says, protesting.
"It'll--"

"No time to chat," I say, firing it up. "Sorry. Stay here,
I'll be right back with both machines and we'll go out for the
evening, got it?"

"But--"

"Luv ya," I say, making cute hand gestures and twisting the
throttle.

*

ARGH.

Mode selector stuck YEAH. Damn thing was pushing out really
weak piano. A silly, bouncy little tune more appropriate for a
golf cart than a chrome-and-bass demon of the road. I couldn't
get any speed with ear-spooge like that, not the way IMuse was
set up... best I could manage was ten miles under the limit.
SNAILS go faster than that.

Wacky Zany FunToons as my backup band or not, I was going to
find Beat Box. How is the question. Beat Box doesn't have a
homing device, doesn't have trackers of any kind, why is that
street all lit up and the other's aren't--

Piano roll as the bike skids to a halt at the intersection.
Lights are on in most of the homes down this street... dogs are
barking, someone's walking around a porch with a shotgun. Sirens
can be heard way off in the distance.

Beat Box has been here, alright.

Accelerating up to fully silly muse, I roll down the street,
following the trail of awakened Burbies. It takes something nice
'n loud to wake this many, say, a musically-interfaced automobile
with an unskilled driver in the seat?

Sniff... smell in the air. Oil. Rubber. Disco.
Definitely tracings of disco.

I push the pianist (not twelve inches) to the limit, keeping