"Charles Stross - Accelerando" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stross Charles)

On the way back to the hotel, he passes De Wildemann's and decides to drop in. The hash of radio-frequency
noise emanating from the bar is deafening. He orders a smoked doppelbock, touches the copper pipes to pick up
vCard spoor. At the back there's a table —
He walks over in a near trance and sits down opposite Pamela. She's scrubbed off her face paint and changed
into body-concealing clothes; combat pants, hooded sweat shirt, DM's. Western purdah, radically desexualizing.
She sees the parcel. "Manny?"
"How did you know I'd come here?" Her glass is half-empty.
"I followed your weblog – I'm your diary's biggest fan. Is that for me? You shouldn't have!" Her eyes light
up, recalculating his reproductive fitness score according to some kind of arcane fin-de-siècle rulebook. Or maybe
she's just pleased to see him.
"Yes, it's for you." He slides the package toward her. "I know I shouldn't, but you have this effect on me.
One question, Pam?"
"I —" She glances around quickly. "It's safe. I'm off duty, I'm not carrying any bugs that I know of. Those
badges — there are rumors about the off switch, you know? That they keep recording even when you think they
aren't, just in case."
"I didn't know," he says, filing it away for future reference. "A loyalty test thing?"




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"Just rumors. You had a question?"
"I — " It's his turn to lose his tongue. "Are you still interested in me?"
She looks startled for a moment, then chuckles. "Manny, you are the most outrageous nerd I've ever met!
Just when I think I've convinced myself that you're mad, you show the weirdest signs of having your head screwed
on." She reaches out and grabs his wrist, surprising him with a shock of skin on skin: "Of course I'm still interested
in you. You're the biggest, baddest bull geek I know. Why do you think I'm here?"
"Does this mean you want to reactivate our engagement?"
"It was never deactivated, Manny, it was just sort of on hold while you got your head sorted out. I figured
you need the space. Only you haven't stopped running; you're still not —"
"Yeah, I get it." He pulls away from her hand. "And the kittens?"
She looks perplexed. "What kittens?"
"Let's not talk about that. Why this bar?"
She frowns. "I had to find you as soon as possible. I keep hearing rumors about some KGB plot you're
mixed up in, how you're some sort of communist spy. It isn't true, is it?"
"True?" He shakes his head, bemused. "The KGB hasn't existed for more than twenty years."
"Be careful, Manny. I don't want to lose you. That's an order. Please."
The floor creaks, and he looks round. Dreadlocks and dark glasses with flickering lights behind them: Bob
Franklin. Manfred vaguely remembers with a twinge that he left with Miss Arianespace leaning on his arm, shortly
before things got seriously inebriated. She was hot, but in a different direction from Pamela, he decides: Bob looks
none the worse for wear. Manfred makes introductions. "Bob, meet Pam, my fiancée. Pam? Meet Bob." Bob puts a
full glass down in front of him; he has no idea what's in it, but it would be rude not to drink.
"Sure thing. Uh, Manfred, can I have a word? About your idea last night?"
"Feel free. Present company is trustworthy."
Bob raises an eyebrow at that, but continues anyway. "It's about the fab concept. I've got a team of my guys
doing some prototyping using FabLab hardware, and I think we can probably build it. The cargo-cult aspect puts a