"Peter F. Hamilton - Footvote" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Peter F)

citizen. Providing they do no harm to others or the state, citizens are free to do and say whatever
they wish.
6 Citizens do not have the right to own or use weapons.
*****

Jannette
It was the day Tony Blair was due to give evidence to the Hutton enquiry. The Today programme on
Radio Four was full of eager anticipation, taunting their opponent to come out and face their allegations
full on, confident he would screw up. Over in Iraq, what was left of the British Army contingent had
suffered more attacks from the population overnight. And I'd forgotten to buy Frosties for Steve.

"Not muesli!" he spat with the true contempt only-seven-year-olds can muster. If only the TUC
leadership had that kind of determination when facing Gordon Brown's latest abysmal round of budget
cuts.

"It's good for you," I said without engaging my brain. After seven years you'd think I'd know not to make
that kind of tactical error with my own son.

"Mum! It's just dried pigeon crap," he jeered as I stopped pouring it into the bowel. Olivia, his little sister,
started to giggle at the use of the NN word. At least she was spooning up her organic yogurt without a
fuss. "Not nice, not nice," she chanted.

"What do you want then?" I asked.

"McDonalds. Big Cheesy One."

"No!" I know he only says it to annoy me, but the reflex is too strong to resist. And I'm the Bad Mother
yet again. Maybe I shouldn't preach so hard. But then, that's Colin speaking.

"How about toast?" I asked.

"Okay."

I couldn't believe it was that easy. But he sat down at the table and waited with a smug look on his face.
God he does so look like Colin these days. Is that why he's becoming more impossible?

"What's the prim?" Olivia asked.

Today had moved on from snipping at their public enemy number one to cover the demonstration at
Stanstead.

"Public Responsibility Movement," I said. "Now please finish your breakfast. Daddy will be here soon."
He'd better be.

I put the toast down in front of Steve, and he squirted too much liquid honey over it. Golden goo oozed
down over the table. Both of them were suddenly silent and eating quickly, as if that would speed his
arrival.

The flat's back door was open in an attempt to let in some cooler air. The summer was damn hot, and
dry. Here in Islington the breeze coursed along the streets like gusts of desert air.