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

through him as he imagined coming back to find the old man dead.
He didn't know how he was going to open the door when he got
where he was going, but at the moment it did not matter because no
slab of wood and plastic, it seemed, could stand in his way. He
veered around a corner, smashing into a tail young man who had
been coming the other way. They both sprawled dazed on the floor,
but Casimir rolled and sprang to his feet and resumed running. The
man he had collided with caught up with him, and he realized that it
was Virgil Gabrielsen, King of the Burrows.
"Virgil! Did you hear that?"
"Yeah, I was coming to check it out. What's up?"
"Piano fell into Sharon's office. . . pierced lung. . . oxygen."
"Right," said Virgil, and skidded to a stop, fishing a key from
his pocket. He master-keyed his way into a lab and they sent a grad
student sprawling against a workbench as they made for the gas
canisters. Casimir grabbed a bottle-cart and they feverishly strapped
the big cylinder onto it, then wheeled it heavily out the door and
back toward Sharon.
"Shit," said Virgil, "no freight elevator. No way to get it
upstairs." They were at the base of the stairs, two floors below
Sharon. The oxygen was about five feet tall and one foot in diameter,
and crammed with hundreds of pounds of extremely high-pressure
gas. Virgil was still thinking about it when Casimir, a bony and
unhealthy looking man, bear-hugged the canister, straightened up,
and hoisted it to his shoulder as he would a roll of carpet. He took
the stairs two at a time, Virgil bounding along behind.
Shortly, Casimir had slammed the cylinder down on the floor
near Sharon. Bert Nix was holding Sharon's hand, mumbling and
occasionally making the sign of the cross. As Virgil closed the door,
Casimir held the top valve at arm's length, buried one ear in his
shoulder, and opened it up. Virgil just had time to plug his ears.
The room was inundated in a devastating hiss, like the shriek of
an injured dragon. Casimir's hands were knocked aside by the
fabulously high pressure of the escaping oxygen. Papers blizzarded
and piano keys skittered across the floor. Ignoring it, Bert Nix
stuffed Kleenex into Sharon's ears, then into his own.
In a minute Sharon began to breathe easier. At the same time his
pipe-ashes burst into a small bonfire, ignited by the high oxygen
levels. Casimir was making ready to stomp it out when Virgil pushed
him gently aside; he had been wise enough to yank a fire
extinguisher from the wall on their way up. Once the fire was
smothered, Virgil commenced what first aid was possible on Sharon.
Casimir returned to the Burrows and, finding an elevator, brought up
more oxygen and a regulator. Using a garbage bag they were able to
rig a crude oxygen tent.
The ambulance crew arrived in an hour. The technicians loaded
Sharon up and wheeled him away, Bert Nix advising them on
Sharon's favorite foods.
I passed this procession on my way there—Casimir had called
to give me the news. When I arrived in the doorway of Sharon's