"FWLS59" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

A Future We'd Like to See 1.59 - The God Maker
By Stefan "Twoflower" Gagne (Copyright 1994)

--cracking of bones, metal ripping noise, scream--

Argh. There it is again; I HATE that. I know what it is
now, thanks to several hundred credits in psychotherapy sessions,
parental-paid. Here's the full story; I'm ten years old, I'm on
a school shuttle field trip out to some chocolate factory off-
planet. The bus hits reentry a bit funny and goes out of
control, coming to a delightful crash on the planet below.

"Delightful" in that I survived, which is a miracle in
itself considering the severity of starship crashes. I was in
the hospital for a long period of time, maybe six months, but
once out I was okay.

Except, as I was recently finding out at the age of
seventeen, I wasn't okay. I still remembered the crash, but in
the worst possible way; subconsciously. Whenever some obscure
mental trigger fired, I'd get a nice little five second flashback
to the chaos and pain involved.

Nobody could get rid of it. I could always get a memory job
done at a black biotech clinic, but :

A. I didn't have enough allowance
B. Mom and Dad would freak
C. I hate biotech.

I've seen other high school punks getting cybered up and it
doesn't look fun. Lots of cutting and metal bits getting
inserted and chips and crap. This does NOT appeal to me. I
don't know where this hate of biotech comes from... I was
arrested two years ago for firebombing a Gallen Upberg shrine.

Yes, a SHRINE. Gallen Upberg, the now long-dead scientist
who came up with all this bio-junk was being worshipped by some
freaks downtown. I torched the place one night after getting
depressed after a physics exam and drinking my head off. Last
time I did that for awhile, you bet.

So I revel in my normality. I don't use high-tech weapons,
I don't have 'enhancements', and I'm nothing special. It's fun
being a nobody.

I dress like a nobody too; the Teen Fashion Plate definition
of sneakers, a t-shirt, and logo print shorts. Buzz cut hair.
Gangly looking. I resemble 70% of the male population at school,
granting me an anonymity beyond a ski mask. I can get away with