"Rudy Rucker & Bruce Sterling - Hormiga Canyon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rucker Rudy)

wristbands. Jayson wove the chain-mail in his idle moments, frenetically
knitting away with pliers. Jayson’s freaky metal wristbands were the
best-selling items on his website. They were beloved by fantasy gamers
and Society for Creative Anachronism types.

Stefan offered a cheery wave and hello, but Jayson raised a hand and
hauled his phone from his shorts pocket. He listened at arm’s length to the
tinny bleating of the speaker, lost his temper and began to rage. “Huh? You
reported it stolen? So try and find me, Lester! I got no fixed address!
You’ve got a what? Back off, man, or you’re never gonna get your money!”
Angrily Jayson snapped shut his phone.

“A little trouble with your hog?” said Stefan delicately.

“Aw, that Lester,” said Jayson, staring uneasily at his precious red
bike. “Nasty old biker, long gray ponytail down his back ... Lester’s a crook!
He sold me a sick Indian, what it is. A beauty, a rare antique, a New York
cop bike with all the original paint ... but it shifts rough. On paper I still owe
him ... but if he won’t fix my bike our contract is void. No way he’s calling the
cops.”

Reassured by his own bravado, Jayson grinned and drew a crumpled
paper sack from his pants pocket. “Next topic. Your ants are history. I
brought ant aromatherapy.”

“Didn’t you used to have a big tow-trailer for your bike?” said Stefan,
studying his friend. “That had all your stuff in it, didn’t it?”

A pained scowl furrowed Jayson’s bearded face. “Lupe says she’s
throwing me out. My trailer’s locked in her garage in Pasadena until I pay
back rent. It’s always money, money, money with her. Man, I hate gated
communities. Like, why put yourself into a jail?”

“You were pretty serious about Lupe. You told me she was the best
woman you ever dated. You said you loved her.”

Jayson winced. “Forget Lupe. Forget my stuff. The world’s full of
stuff. What’s the difference who has what?”

“I like where your head’s at,” said Stefan, feeling empathy for his
companion. “Material possessions are mere illusions. Everything we see
here, everything we think we own, it all emerges from the knotting and
unknotting of a hexadecillion loops of cosmic string.”

It was Jayson’s turn to offer a pitying look. “Still at that, huh?”

“Jayse, I’m just a few ticks of the clock away from the One True String
Theory. In fact I think maybe ... I think maybe I already found it. I found the
truth exactly when those ants showed up to eat my system. So if I can just
publish my science findings in a reputable journal—who knows! It could