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

dependable, and lots of old-fashioned class despite an inferior
character menu." Fred Fine nodded approvingly. Virgil shouldered
through them, sat before the terminal and, without looking up,
announced, "I didn't invite any of you in, so you can all leave flOW.'
They did not quite understand.
"Catch my drift? I dislike audiences."
Fred Fine avoided this by shaking his head, smiling a red smile
and chuckling. The others were unmanned and stood still, waiting to
be told that Virgil was kidding.
"Couldn't we just sit in?" one finally asked. "I've just got to
XEQ one routine. It's debugged and bad data tested. It's fast, it
outputs on batch. I can wait till you're done."
"Forget it," said Virgil airily, scooting back and nudging him
away. "I won't be done for hours. It's all secret Science Shop data.
Okay?"
"But turnover for terminals at CC is two hours to the minus
one!"
"Try it at four in the morning. You know? Four in the morning
is a great time at American Megaversity. Everything is quiet, there
are no lines even at the laundry, you can do whatever you want
without fucking with a mob of freshmen. Put yourselves on second
shift and you'll be fine. Okay?"
They left, sheeshing. Fred Fine stopped in the doorway, still
grinning broadly and shaking his head, as though leaving just for the
hell of it.
"You're still the same old guy, Virgil. You still program in raw
machine code, still have that master key. Don't know where science
at AM would be without you. What a wiz."
Virgil stared patiently at the wall. "Fred. I told you I'd fix your
MCA and I will. Don't you believe me?"
"Sure I do. Say! That invitation I made you, to join MARS
anytime you want, is still open. You'll be a Sergeant right away, and
we'll probably commission you after your first night of gaming,
from what I know of you."
"Thanks. I won't forget. Goodbye."
"Ciao." Fred Fine bowed his thin frame low and strode off.
"What a creep," said Virgil, and ferociously snapped the
deadbolt as soon as Fred Fine was almost out of earshot.
Removing supplies from the desk drawer, he stuffed a towel
under the door and taped black paper over the window. By the
terminal he set up a small lamp with gel over its mouth, which cast a
dim pool of red once he had shut off the room lights.
He activated the terminal, and the computer asked him for the
number of his account, Instead of typing in an account number,
though, Virgil typed: FIAT LUX.


Later, Virgil and I got to know each other. I had problems with
the computer only he could deal with, and after our first contacts he
seemed to find me interesting enough to stay in touch, He began to