Beech - Labyrinth of Reflections.

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(c) С.Лукьяненко

              Л А Б И Р И Н Т  О Т Р А Ж Е Н И Й
              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                                Наша работа во тьме -
                                Мы делаем, что умеем,
                                Мы отдаем, что имеем -
                                Наша работа - во тьме.
                                Сомнения стали страстью,
                                А страсть стала судьбой.
                                Все остальное- art
                                In the madness of being yourself.

 Anthem of hackers, Russian version.

 PART ONE
DIVER

 00

  I want to close my eyes.  This is fine. Color kaleidoscope,
sparkles, sparkling star swirl - beautiful, but I know that
is behind this beauty.
  Depth.  They call it "deep", but it seems to me that it is in Russian
the word sounds more correct.    Replaces a beautiful label
warning.  "Depth!" Sharks and octopuses live here. Here
quietly - and presses, presses, presses the endless space, which
actually no.
  In general, she is kind, deep.  In my own way, of course. She
accepts anyone.  It takes a little strength to dive.  To
reaching the bottom and coming back is much more. First of all you need
remember - the depth is dead without us. We must both believe in it and not
believe.
  Otherwise, the day will come when you won’t be able to surface.

 01

  The first movements are the most difficult. The room is small, there is a table
in the middle, the wire harnesses from the computer extend to the UPS -
installationuninterruptible power supply, in the corner, and then to the outlet.
A thin wire goes to the telephone line. By the wall, under the luxurious
carpet, ottoman, by the open door to the balcony - small
refrigerator. The most necessary things. Five minutes ago I checked that
It's in the refrigerator, so I won't be hungry for the next 24 hours.
threatens.  I turn my head, left, right - for a moment in
It gets dark in my eyes, but it’s only for a second. Nothing. Happens.
  - Is everything okay, Lenya?
  The speakers are adjusted to maximum, I wince and answer:
  - Yes.  Quiet the sound.
  “The sound is quieter,” agrees Windows Home, “quieter, quieter...
  “That’s enough, Vika,” I stop.
  Good program.  Obedient, understanding and friendly.
Not without conceit, like all Microsoft products, but with this
you have to put up with it.
  “Good luck,” says the program. - When can we expect you?
  I look at the screen - there, in a halo of orange sparks, a woman is floating...
some face. Young, pretty, but overall nothing special.
I'm tired of beauty.
  - Don't know. - I would like to have ten minutes for self-control.
  - Fine. But no more.  In ten minutes I'll need
all resources.
  The face on the screen wrinkles - the program isolates key words -
va.
  “Only ten minutes,” says Windows Home obediently.  -
But I again draw your attention to the fact that the level of
tasks do not always correspond to the volume of my operationalmemory.
Expansion to...
  “Quiet up,” I get up.
  “Quiet down” is an unconditional order, after which the program is to argue
doesn't dare. Step left, step right... Ha ha. No, this is not an attempt
to escape, it is rather a voluntary imprisonment. I reach the cold
dilnik, I open the door, take out a can of Sprite, and open it.
The drink chills my throat.  It's almost a ritual - depth is always deep
sews the mucous membrane. With a can in my hand, I go out onto the balcony, in the warm summer...
nth evening.
  It's almost always evening in Deeptown. The streets are flooded with the light of advertisements,
Speeding cars rumble quietly.  And they go, they go in a continuous stream
people.  Twenty-five million permanent population - the most
major metropolis in the world.  From the height of the eleventh floor there are no persons
see.  I finish the Sprite, throw the can down, and come back
to the room.
  “Unethical...” mutters the computer. Without reacting, I go out
hallway, put on my shoes, open the door. The entrance is empty and bright,
very very clean. While I'm fiddling with the lock, the half-open door
a tiny bug is trying to fly in. Yeah. Lamers are having fun. I'm with
I ironically watch the persistent insect - it’s blowing from the apartment
an even flow of air, carrying it back. Finally the door is closed
the bug hits the door with its last effort, a short flash - and
the insect falls to the floor.
  - File a complaint with the owner of the house? - asks Windows Home.
Now the voice comes from silver lapel pinsmy
shirts.
  “Give it to me,” I agree. I forget to explain everything to the program,
that I myself am the owner of the house.
  The elevator is waiting for me on the floor. I usually go down the stairs...
I look into other people's apartments on the way. There's no one there anyway
lives... but now I'm in a hurry.  The elevator goes down - very quickly.
I go out onto the sidewalk, look around - maybe I’ll see an amateur
insects?  But there is no one suspicious, everyone is in a hurry on business.
The bug is clearly a stray, serial work. They are harassed in the streets, beaten
in apartments, but they are not translated.
  I myself once entertained myself with such nonsense. Very very
Rarely did bugs manage to bring interesting information.
  - Lenya, the Polyana company received a complaint from
Tenant number one.
  “Ignore me,” I mutter, watching him walking along the sidewalk.
a man.  Yes, this is something! Young Arnold Schwarzenegger hybrid
years and Clint Eastwood in old age. Very, very funny. Man
catches my mocking glance and speeds up his steps.
  I raise my hand, and a moment later the curb slows down.
yellow limousine.
  - Lenya, your complaint to the Polyana company was ignored!
  - OK. Nothing.

 to be continued...


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