"Robert A. Metzger - Picoverse" - читать интересную книгу автора (Metzger Robert)

“Damn,” she said.

The simulation shattered, a black spiderweb sucking down plasma density contour lines, the plasma
temperature color scale oscillating, unsuccessfully trying to auto-scale, as temperatures soared into the
billion-degree range, a temperature so unrealistic that even a theoretical physicist like Katie, for whom
lines and contour plotswere reality, knew that the simulation and physical reality had parted company.
Not even Katie could believe plasma temperatures in the multibillion-degree range, higher than
temperatures in the center of the sun.

“Terminate.”

The simulation vanished. In its place appeared Anthony’s playroom, the default input for the simulation
quadrant when she was not running simulations. Anthony sat at his worktable, nearly hidden behind a
multicolored mound of construction paper, glistening tape, and rubber bands. He carefully taped what
looked like a rainbow-colored fish to the top of the mound. Within the mound Katie recognized a wide
spectrum of geometrical shapes, ranging from the most basic squares, circles, and rectangles, to more
complex Mo¨bius strips, convoluted manifolds, Penrose tiles, and Gordian-like knots.

Katie did not like the look of it.

Her son was obsessed with anything geometrical, and the things he built usually caused trouble. The
six-year-old focused; his crystalline blue eyes flicking back and forth.

But for the moment, all was calm.

Anthony was not screaming. And just as importantly, the latest in a long string of special ed teachers was
not screaming. Katie did not hold out much hope for Miss Alice. Caring, loving, degreed in special-needs
primary education, with a strong background in math and science, she should have been perfect. Miss
Alice had been working with Anthony for almost three weeks now. Katie doubted that Miss Alice would
break the four-week barrier, not after what happened two days ago, when Anthony had set up a
convoluted array of aluminum foil and lightbulbs, the contraption generating enough focused heat to ignite
the kitchen curtains.

911 was on speed dial.

He was a brilliant little boy, but could not quite connect with the world, had no concept of the difference
between appropriate and inappropriate behavior. Katie sighed. People skills were an alien concept to
Anthony.

But at the moment, all was calm. She refocused past the input being fed into her head and out into the
Atlanta morning.

Reality.

Katie sipped tea from her cracked and terminally stained Starbuck’s vacuum cup, the contents burning
her tongue and scorching the roof of her mouth. Tears momentarily welled up in her eyes, blurring both
reality and input.

“Watch, Mama!”