"Big U, The" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stephenson Neal)

their Pentagon connections, but there's nothing really wrong with
it."
The trio stared at him. How could he know so much?
"Uh, do you guys," ventured the blue one, "ever get into role-
playing games? Like Dungeons and Dragons?"
"Those of us high in the experiential hierarchy find conventional
D and D stultifying and repetitive. We prefer to stage live-action
role-playing scenarios. But that's not for just anyone."
They looked timidly at Fred Fine's fencing foil and wondered if
he were on his way to a live-action wargame at this very moment.
For an instant, as he stood in the dim recess of the corridor, light
flickering through a shattered panel above and playing on his head
like distant lightning, his feet spread apart, hand on sword pommel,
it seemed to them that they beheld some legendary hero of ancient
times, returned from Valhalla to try his steel against modern foes.
The mood was broken as another man suddenly came around
the corner. He brushed silently past Fred Fine and nearly impaled
Gary on a key, but Gary moved just in time and the new arrival
shoved the key home and shot back the deadbolt. He was tall, with
nearly white blond hair, pale blue eyes and a lean but cherubic face,
dressed in cutoffs and a white dress shirt. Shouldering through them,
he entered the little room.
Fred Fine reacted with uncharacteristic warmth. "Well, well,
well," he said, starting in a high whine and dropping in pitch from
there. I had Fred Fine in one of my classes and when in a good mood
he really did talk like Colonel Klink; it took some getting used to.
"So they haven't caught up with you and your master key yet, eh,
Virgil? Very interesting."
Virgil Gabrielsen turned smoothly while stepping through the
doorway, and stared transparently through Fred Fine's head. "No,"
he said, "but I have plenty of copies anyway. They aren't about to
change every lock in the Plex on my account. The only doors this
won't open are in the hazardous waste area, the Administration Bloc,
Doors 1253 through 1778 and 7899 to 8100, whIch obviously no one
cares about, and Doors 753, 10100 and the high 12,500's, and I'm
obviously not going to go ripping off vending-machine receipts, am
I?" At this the three friends frowned and looked back and forth.
Virgil entered the room and switched on the awesomely powerful
battery of overhead fluorescent lights. Everything was somewhat
dusty inside.
"No rat poison on the floor," observed Fred Fine. "Dusty. Still
keeping the B-men out, eh?"
"Yeah," said Virgil, barely aware of them, and began to pull
things from his knapsack. "I told them I was doing werewolf
experiments in here."
Fred Fine nodded soberly at this. Meanwhile, the three younger
students had invited themselves in and were gathered around the
'terminal, staring raptly into its printing mechanism. "It's just an
antique Teletype," said the blue one. He had already said this once,
but repeated it now for Fred Fine. "However, I really like these. Real