"Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. Roadside Picnic (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

"Contact with Burbridge?"
"He's courting Dina. No success."
"Very good," Mr. Lemchen said. "What do you hear about Red Schuhart?"
"He got out of prison last month. No financial difficulties. He tried
to emigrate, but he has. . . ." Noonan was silent. "Well, he has family
problems. He has no time for the Zone."
"Is that all?"
"That's all."
"Not much," Mr. Lemchen said. "How are things with Lucky Carter?"
"He hasn't been a stalker for many years. He sells used cars and he has
a shop that converts cars to run on so-so's. Four kids, his wife died last
year. Has a mother-in-law."
Lemchen nodded.
"Well, who have I forgotten of the oldsters?" he asked in a kindly
tone.
"You forgot Jonathan Miles, known as Cactus. He's in the hospital,
dying of cancer. And you forgot Gutalin."
"Yes, yes, what about Gutalin?"
"He's still the same. He has a gang of three men. They go into the Zone
for days at a time, destroying everything they come across. His old
organization, the Fighting Angels, broke up."
"Why?"
"Well, as you recall, they used to buy up swag and Gutalin would take
it back into the Zone. The devil's things to the devil. Now there's nothing
to buy, and besides, the new director of the institute got the cops on
them."
"I understand," Mr. Lemchen said. "What about the young ones?"
"Well, the young ones, they come and go. There are five or six with
some experience, but lately there's been no one to fence the swag and
they're lost. I'm training them little by little. I think that stalking has
almost disappeared in my Zone, chief. The old ones are retired, the young
ones don't know how, and the prestige of the trade is slipping. Technology
is taking over. Now there are robot stalkers."
"Yes, yes, I've heard about that. But the machines use up too much
energy. Or am I mistaken?"
"It's just a question of time. They'll be worth it soon."
"How soon?"
"Five or six years."
Mr. Lemchen nodded again.
"By the way you probably don't know that the enemy has started
employing the automated stalkers?"
"In my Zone?" Noonan asked, on guard.
"In yours, too. They base themselves in Rexopolis, transfer the
equipment by helicopter over the mountains to Snake Canyon, to Black Lake,
and the foothills of Mount Boulder."
"But that's the periphery of the Zone," Noonan said suspiciously.
"It's empty there. What could they find?"
"Little, very little. But they find it. Anyway, I was just informing
you, it doesn't concern you. Let's recapitulate. There are almost no
professional stalkers left in Harmont. The ones who have stayed have no