"Stephen Goldin - Scavenger Hunt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goldin Stephen)excluding aliens, of course. But who would ever have believed an android
could come up with enough money to enter?" "Where did it get the money?" "All the androids in the galaxy apparently contributed to pay its fee and buy it a ship. It's like a cause or something with them—some nonsense about trying to prove their equality with human beings." Tyla's eyes narrowed. "Do you think it stands much of a chance?" "How would I know, dear? I'm certainly not very good at guessing about these sorts of things. But all the people I've talked to say there isn't much chance of its winning. It only has an old, third-hand ship and a robot crew, because no human being would want to work for an android and no other androids are available with sufficient space training. No, thank the Vacuum it doesn't stand a chance of winning. But just the thought of its being in our Hunt is disgraceful. I can assure you that the entrance Rules will have been changed by the next time." Tyla nodded. The android's entry into the Hunt would tend to cheapen its value somewhat, but the tradition of the Hunt was so glorious that the damage would be minimal. She was not worried about the android as competition, either—not if it only had a battered old ship and robots as a crew. Similarly, most of the other entrants would be no threat. They had and no one was willing to undergo that penalty. They would pursue the Hunt lackadaisically, perhaps gather a few of the objects on their list and lose gracefully, later telling exciting anecdotes about how they might have won if it had not been for such-and-such unfortunate accident. There was only one person she was really worried about, only one who took the Hunt as more than just a game. "Hello, Tyla," said a voice from behind her, and she recognized the sound of the enemy. "Hello, Master Jusser," she said. "I was just thinking about you." Then she turned around to face the man who had addressed her. Ambic Jusser looked the part he played—every inch a debonair, sophisticated lady-killer. Broad-shouldered, he stood a full two meters tall and had a handsome, craggy face with a deeply space-tanned complexion. His mustache and goatee were sprinkled with silver-colored dust; the shaved strip down the center of his skull was three centimeters wide and lavishly tattooed by the famous Corinarr himself. Men's fashion dictated bright, alluring colors to attract the female eye, and Ambic Jusser was nothing if not fashionable. His shirt was smooth, semi-transparent plastisilk, swirling in blues and reds and yellows. The design at first glance might have seemed haphazard, but it was calculated to direct the eye around his magnificent frame and then downward toward the waist. His |
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