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САРАНСКАЯ КОМПЬЮТЕРНАЯ ▓█▓▒▒▒░ ██▓░▒▒██▓▒▒░ ▒██▓██▓░
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▒███░ ░████▒ ░▓██▓░ ДАТА ВЫХОДА
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░▓███▓▓▓████▓░ ░▒▓██▓▓████▓░ PART 2
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(c) С.Лукьяненко
Л А Б И Р И Н Т О Т Р А Ж Е Н И Й
продолжение
Я закрыл и открыл глаза. Передо мной картинка - пропасть, нить
над ней, здания вдали. Даже смешно... Глядя под ноги, я начал
аккуратно переставлять ступни по нити.
Просто картинка. Здесь нет гравитации, а у нарисованного тела
не бывает центра тяжести. Лишь наступай на нить, и все будет
хорошо... Забавно - оказывается, дно пропасти почтиand not
drawn... it means that I imagined the mountain river myself...
someone else would have seen clumps of trees or streams beneath them
lava...
Now that my subconscious is not in the game, the distance
is overcome quickly. Half a minute - and I'm at the other end of the bridge.
The thread goes into the crest of the fortress wall. The ridge is wide, and on
There are already two people standing there, clearly waiting for me. Very good
are drawn - these big pot-bellied guys with swords on their belts,
one in a turban, the other bald... Stepping on the “bricks” of the wall, I
whispered:
- Vika, turn on the deep...
Fiery sparks before the eyes. Yes, I'm overusing it today
disconnections and connections of the subconscious. Tomorrow is guaranteed
headache, palpitations, fatigue. But nothing. I wish I could live to see
tomorrow...
And here are the greeters - already in a normal human form.
“You got there quickly, guest,” says the bald man. He has a good nature
face of an Arab security guard from a children's play
Sinbad the Sailor. The second is equally cartoonishly Arabized, but
looks much more sinister, his eyes sparkle and
releases the hilt of the sword. Yes, I just need a combat virus in the car
wasn't enough...
- Do others get there slower? - I ask.
“No one has crossed this bridge yet,” the bald man kindly informs
security guard. - It is not humanly possible to maintain balance.
on horsehair.
- Then heaven is empty, -I sigh. It seems that I’m no longer leading
events, and they me. I don't like this turn.
“But there’s enough room in hell for everyone.”
A good promise.
- Went.
Well, let's obey. Let's be obedient and polite. In someone else's
The monastery doesn’t interfere with its own rules...
A wide, steep staircase leads down from the wall. Let's go down.
A good-natured guard in front, a sniffling ill-wisher behind.
I diligently ignore him, looking only at the good-natured bald head. B
right on the crown of the head - a large wart. I wonder if she really
Is it drawn, or is it ironic to the subconscious? But get out
depth for the sake of checking such a trifle is unreasonable.
The Al-Kabar quarter is small. In virtuality it takes not
more than a square kilometer. This, however, does not mean anything.
Some companies - the same Microsoft, for example - provide
They give their employees entire palaces to work on. Cheap and effective.
Others make do with such standard rooms that it’s amazing
you wonder - why is there virtuality here at all? "Al-Kabar" is clearly related
joins their number.
The equipment... is too unfamiliar to be used
identify. Several people at tables. One has a test tube in his hands
ka. I look into one of the windows of a low stone building, past
which we are passing through. Ha, chemical experiments in a virtual space
early! Something new. It only makes sense if work is being done on
very toxic substances... orwith bacterial media. Vo-
Let's take note.
-Where are you taking me? - I ask the security guard. Baldness is not
turns around, but answers:
- To the director of the corporation.
He doesn’t mention his name, but a lot has already been said.
Al-Kabar is a transnational corporation specializing
in the production of medicines, telephone communications, it seems - still
oil production... Despite all the Arab surroundings,
it is controlled from Switzerland. Its director, Friedrich Urman -
the personality is too significant to talk to everyone
visitor.
A warm meeting is being prepared.
We stop at a small wooden tree covered with vines.
gazebos, they push me from behind, and I enter. The guards remain
beyond the threshold.
The room is much larger inside than outside. Huge pavilion
in the center there is a pool where sleepy, shiny fish swim slowly.
Nearby there is a table with two chairs. There are a lot of flowers, I even
I'm starting to smell things.
And no one.
Well... let's wait. I sit down in a chair.
A slight blur before my eyes... as one would expect. Now
They are probing my communication channel. Trying to figure out where I'm from
arrived, the amount of information that I can receive and transmit for
second, the programs present with me...
Come on, get to work. Six rented “one-time” routers,
through which the signal passes. And all are quite resistant to
hacking. Ain the end - a paid Internet gate in Austria,
through which I entered virtuality.
Traces will remain, but will not lead anywhere.
You can cut off the connection at any time, “throw me out”
quarter. What will it give them... all the little things, programs that
are with me, they will work immediately. There's little left for
studying. And they are very interested in me, there is no doubt...
“The first router has been tracked,” Windows Home reports.
Fast. I shake my head - and at that moment the chair opposite
stops being empty.
Mr. Friedrich Urmann neglects the Arabic flavor. He's in
shorts, colorful shirt. Elderly, lean, serious.
“Good afternoon... diver,” he says. In Russian. Voice
unnatural, passed through a translator program.
This is the reason for such a high honor.
- I'm afraid you're mistaken, Mr. Director.
- When we created the bridge six months ago, it only pursued
one goal, Mr. Diver. Detect you. Person located
in virtuality, could not overcome it, - Urman sparingly
smiles. - This is the first time I’ve seen a real diver.
One-zero... not in my favor.
- And this is the first time I’ve seen a real multimillionaire.
- You see, our meeting has already brought first fruits.
Windows Home whispers:
- The second router was tracked.
Urman frowns - it looks like they are telling him something. Then
interested in:
- Sorry, throughHow many computers did you pass on your way here?
- Unfortunately, I don’t remember.
Urman shrugs.
- What can I call you?
- Ivan Tsarevich.
A second pause - then a smile. They explained it to him.
- Oh, Russian fairy-tale hero! Are you Russian yourself?
- Does it matter?
- Yes, you are absolutely right... Mister diver, as I understand it,
you entered our neighborhood illegally...
- Really? - I am amazed. - To be honest, I was just looking for a job.
I read your announcement, walked across the bridge... obeyed this
strange guards.
One-one.
Friedrich Urmann throws up his hands.
- Yes... indeed! But we have no complaints against you,
Mister Diver. Is it the strange things that you wear with
myself...
Slowly, demonstratively, I take everything out of my pockets.
Comb, handkerchief, small mirror.
- Here. Shall I give you the sword?
Urman waves his hands:
- Lord, why? We're not going to start fights,
right? Let's talk...
- The third router was tracked.
- What a pity that there is less and less time left for conversation and
“less,” I sigh.
- Yes, but there is always not enough time. So, Mr. Diver,
I have reason to believe that some persons would like
get a number of our developments. And they even managed to hire
diver... to reap someone else's fruits.
“Apples,” I clarify.
- Yes, exactly. We have a good Russian working for usprogrammer, he
made a beautiful form for storing information... - Urman claps
clap your hands, and next to us the air begins to grow cloudy and thicken. Blink
and a small tree appears, covered with fruits. - I believe that
the one that is of most interest is the little green apple on the
lower branch.
I look at the desired fruit. It is small, immature and wormy.
- What do you think, diver, how much could ours pay?
competitors for this file?
- Ten thousand, - I inflate the price somewhat.
Urman looks at me in bewilderment. Specifies:
- Ten thousand dollars?
- Yes.
- To be honest, even a hundred thousand would be a small reward...
Okay. Let's say I offer a person who tried to steal
file, one hundred fifty thousand. Provided he starts
cooperate with us... for a normal, good fee.
- What is this, a cure for cancer? - I ask.
Urman shakes his head:
- No. Then it would have no price. This is just a remedy
colds, but very, very effective. We're getting ready to start it
production, but only after stocks are sold out
less effective drugs. So what do you say about mine
proposal?
“I’m afraid to upset you,” trying not to think about the proposed
amount, I say. - But the divers' code directly prohibits such
agreements.
“Okay,” Urman gets up. - I expected such an answer. And I appreciate it
your position.
Heapproaches the tree and, with some effort, picks an apple.
His lips move at the same time - he clearly pronounces the password.
- Take it.
Apple in my palms. Heavy - it will be two megabytes.
There is no use in trying to copy it; you have to take it with you. Suyu
an apple in my bosom - that is, I attach the file to my virtual
shell. I look at Urman.
“I’m going all-in,” Urman says seriously. - I sacrifice a lot
promising development. You can give it to Mr.
Schellerbach, and convey my best greetings from me personally. I only ask
one thing - after that come to us and talk about permanent
cooperation. I won’t hide it, right now we are very, very
Diver services required.
- The fourth router was tracked... the fifth router was tracked...
alarm! Anxiety! Anxiety!
“Okay,” I get up too. Everything is very unexpected... never
expected serious businessmen to make such sweeping gestures. - I
I promise I'll come. Now, excuse me...
- No, Mr. Diver, forgive me now. Are you calm
leave our territory, but only after
your real address has been established. For the purpose of guaranteeing this only
what promises.
The lattice walls of the pavilion darken, as if they had been thrown
dense fabric. I take a step - it is difficult. The communication channel is not
cut off - slow down. Urman begins to move jerkily,
everything floats in the eyes, the apple is behindbends his bosom to the floor, voice
Windows Home stalls and loses intonation:
- Anxiety... tr... in... ha...
That's how it is. Good players are multimillionaires.
More precisely, their servants - among whom they are going to include me.
- Vika, drop the details! - I whisper, continuing to reach out to
table. If only the program would understand, if only it would obey without
clarifications...
The pavilion is changing. The openwork pattern of the ornament disappears from the walls,
flowers lose buds and some small leaves, the texture becomes coarser
Urman's shirts.
But I reach for my toys on the table and grab a handkerchief.
A useful thing, these personal hygiene items.
A wave of the scarf - slow, as if under water, and sparkling
a plane of light cuts through the sleeping little world of the pavilion. Some call
This program "stuck", others - "road". Both definitions
are true. The program looks for other people's communication channels and starts
use for my purposes.
A very, very new, rare, and almost trouble-free program.
Part of the wall collapses, revealing an exit to the street. Obviously I
used the communication channel of Friedrich himself. I grab the mirror and
comb, run.
Jagged, sharp spears begin to emerge from the wall.
Al-Kabara watchdog program. I jump - in a desperate attempt
jump between the spears.
Depth, depth, I'm not yours...
to be continued...
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