"Vernor Vinge - The Cookie Monster" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vinge Vernor)

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The Cookie Monster
Vernor Vinge

Man is "the time-binding animal."
But in the future, that simple
statement may take on meanings
that Korzybski never imagined. . . .

"So how do you like the new job?"

Dixie Mae looked up from her keyboard and spotted a pimply face peering at her from over the
cubicle partition.

"It beats flipping burgers, Victor," she said.

Victor bounced up so his whole face was visible. "Yeah? It’s going to get old awfully fast."

Actually, Dixie Mae felt the same way. But doing customer support at Lotsa-Tech was a real job, a
foot in the door at the biggest high-tech company in the world. "Gimme a break, Victor! This is
our first day." Well, it was the first day not counting the six days of product familiarization
classes. "If you can’t take this, you’ve got the attention span of a cricket."

"That’s a mark of intelligence, Dixie Mae. I’m smart enough to know what’s not worth the attention
of a first-rate creative mind."

Grr. "Then your first-rate creative mind is going to be out of its gourd by the end of the
summer."

Victor smirked. "Good point." He thought a second, then continued more quietly, "But see, um, I’m
doing this to get material for my column in the Bruin. You know, big headlines like ‘The New
Sweatshops’ or ‘Death by Boredom’. I haven’t decided whether to play it for laughs or go for heavy
social consciousness. In any case,"–he lowered his voice another notch–"I’m bailing out of here,
um, by the end of next week, thus suffering only minimal brain damage from the whole sordid
experience."

"And you’re not seriously helping the customers at all, huh, Victor? Just giving them hilarious
misdirections?"

Victor’s eyebrows shot up. "I’ll have you know I’m being articulate and seriously helpful . . . at
least for another day or two." The weasel grin crawled back onto his face. "I won’t start being
Bastard Consultant from Hell till right before I quit."

That figures. Dixie Mae turned back to her keyboard. "Okay, Victor. Meantime, how about letting me
do the job I’m being paid for?"

Silence. Angry, insulted silence? No, this was more a leering, undressing-you-with-my-eyes
silence. But Dixie Mae did not look up. She could tolerate such silence as long as the leerer was
out of arm’s reach.