"Lois Gresh - Termination Node" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gresh Lois)

But after three months, Dad no longer hugged Judy. And he stopped talking to Mom. Judy got her hugs
from morph-fuzz, Mom just cried all night,

It had been cold, snowing. Judy in flannel pajamas and her Christmas-present robe, the pink fluffy one
from Mom. Middle of the night. Judy had pushed open the back door. There was her father. Touching
the box.

Behind his ringer was an avatar, a naked man, having sex with a female avatar named Blushing Bimbo.
Dad was saying disgusting things to Bimbo. And Bimbo was saying disgusting things to Dad.

He looked up, startled.

That was the last time Judy ever saw him. Mom went nuts: her husband had dumped her to fuck a
computer. Mom became an antitech fanatic, a Barrington follower. End the Net, doom to computers,
and all that rot.

Judy became TerMight. She cracked the computer security codes of the Pennsylvania Supreme Bank.
Electronically shifted the family money somewhere safe, where Bimbo and Dad could never find it. On
the Net, she found and cracked into her original TerMight box, then crushed it with a mighty spray of
electronic insecticide.

With Mom ranting on and on and breaking Judy's computer equipment with barn axes, Judy had to
escape. She came to Laguna; she kicked the morph. The morph that created the TerMight that created
the phosphor sex that destroyed her family.

But she would never escape from the TerMight box. It was with her forever, the memories popping up at
any time and any place—on the beach, in Steve's office, while she worked, while she slept...

Nor was there any escape from Barrington, the old fart her Mom idolized. He was everywhere, on his
Web-TV show, screaming about the evils of the Net.

It wasn't the Net that was bad. It was people like her dad who used the Net in perverted ways.

She hated the thoughts, hated remembering.

The only way to blank it all out was to be TerMight. Let the gears crank. Focus, focus..

With the Laguna Bank computers dead, nobody's digicard transactions would clear. Only the poor, who
didn't qualify for digicards, used paper cash and coins. Everyone else — companies, families—would be
in ruins. No income, no way to pay bills or the mortgage, no way to buy food. If the culprits were
hackers, everyone would become a Barrington fanatie.

TerMight wouldn't let that happen.

She'd go to the bank's main computer, not hooked to the Net, but storing vital account stats.

"Big Cheese."

She scanned the log files, searching for some sign of a break-in. The logs were clean. No surprise there.
She checked several large accounts, including Widescreen DVD. They were zonked: sums added, then