"Kristine Kathryn Rusch - Coolhunting" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rusch Kristine Kathryn)

She couldn't slip him. He was still pressed against her, as if they
were lovers on a midday stroll.
She kept walking, but her breath was coming shallowly now. She hoped he
didn't notice.
"You know," she snapped, "there are about eighteen laws you're breaking
touching me like that."
"You want to go to the cops?" he asked and she could hear the smile in
his voice.
"No," she said. "I want you to back off."
She stopped suddenly and he slammed into her, nearly losing his
balance. She shoved with her elbow, and he fell hard enough on the grass to
let out a small grunt.
A girl stopped beside her and peered down. "He all right?" the girl
asked. She was wired. Small chips dotted her face like jewelry. In the quick
glance that Steffie got, she recognized audio, video, and net chips.
"He doesn't need to be," Steffie said.
"Ooo," the girl said. "Want me to get someone?" She tapped a chip on
her chin. Security system too. The girl had money.
"Naw," Steffie said. "I think he got the idea."
The girl laughed and continued, but not before Steffie caught a glimpse
of her shoes. Scuffed Air Jordans with six laces tied in a flower bow.
An early adapter.
The vid had already hit the street.
The man was sitting up, a hand to his head. Steffie pushed him back
down and put a foot on his chest. She got the distinct sense he was humoring
her, that he could shove her aside with a flick of the wrist.
She didn't care. It was the look that counted. And right now it looked
as if she were in control.
"I don't know who you are or what you want," she said. "But leave me
alone."
"Can't do that." He put a hand on her boot. "Italian leather. Nice.
They don't make stuff this soft anymore."
She yanked her foot away. "What do you want?" she asked.
"Well, I don't want to broadcast your id," he said. "If I wanted that,
I could have done it by now."
He was right. He had obviously seen her long before she saw him. The
thought made her even more uneasy.
"You're one of those stalkers, aren't you?" she asked, yanking her foot
away. "Interested in the hunt, in toying with your prey, in killing slowly."
He smiled as he sat up, and rubbed the grass stains out of his sleeve.
"You have a vivid imagination."
"I want to know why you're bothering me," she said. _And how you know
who I am_. But she didn't say that. She had already said too much.
"It's not enough to say that I'm an admirer?"
"No," she said.
"Well, I am."
"Then admire from a distance."
"And let you dive away like you did before, only to come back with a
new look, a new style."
"Maybe I'll retire," she said.