"Alexander Jablokov - Brain Raid" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jablokov Alexander)

Max had a gigantic house, and an adjustable rate, from the days when
Gorson really had been making money. That was before I came to work for
them, naturally.

Max grinned and sauntered off toward the loading dock. He was fully
loaded with a powerpack, focused explosives, circuit suppressers. It was
way more gear than I’d ever seen him carry. He and Petra had had a
discussion about it: lost and damaged equipment cratered the bottom line.
And what had Max said? “You can’t be too careful.” Which didn’t sound like
our casual Max at all.

Damn me for shooting my mouth off that night. I’d brought this AI into
our target list, but I shouldn’t have told Max how much I had riding on it.
There was still a lot that could go wrong.

“But how can these big trees live on my carpet?” Petra’s voice came
from somewhere behind glossy monstera leaves. Despite myself, I smiled.
In just a few words you could tell she was the inane time-wasting client that
was every salesman’s nightmare, the kind you couldn’t ignore, because
sometimes they bought huge. “And why don’t they fall through into the
basement? I do have a basement. Did I tell you that?”

The clerk was soothing. “All the support gear is self-inserting and
self-maintaining. It’s no more than a foot thick, and takes over your
subflooring. Structural stiffening is integral. Our installation team will do a full
survey for your particular situation.”

I swung through the store. Two middle-aged women stood near a lily
pond, one with a frog on her hand, discussing lotus flowers. A gardener
half-covered in butterflies stuck a pressure sensor into a thick vine. I had to
sweep customers, but the Limpopo staff was my highest priority. The clerk
talking to Petra was Sylvia, the gardener was Alphonse. My list had one
more employee on duty that day, Maureen, sales and technical support, but
there had been no way to predict the number of customers.
 Where was I? Streams of hot light broke up the darkness. Steaming,
rotting trunks loomed above me and gigantic leaves showered water as I
brushed past. Glass walls loomed here and there, but the mulch paths
always curved away before I reached one.

No Maureen anywhere. She should have been past those giant
pitcher plants, their maws filled with writhing mosquitoes and bluebottles,
but there was no sign of her in the mist. Why didn’t those bugs die? I got
distracted, watching their unending death throes. They must keep the poor
damn things alive as a demo, maybe with tiny spiracle-nozzled aqualungs.

“But what about lights?” Petra was plaintive. “I mean, here you’ve got
your growsuns. I’ll have sunburn by the time I get back out to my car.” Sylvia
the clerk made a noise like she would do something about it—a sunsuit
behind the desk?—but Petra was not to be pleased. “Oh, it’s just sensitive