Literature - Sergey Lukyanenko. Labyrinth of reflections. Continuation, beginning in PLITONIUM #1O - #1O.5, #13, #14.

    
    
    
    
    
                                                                
                                                                
                       ЛАБИРИНТ ОТРАЖЕНИЙ                       
                                                                
    (Продолжение, начало в PLUTONIUM #1O - #1O.5, #13, #14 )    
                                                                
                                                                
     - Можно?  - ко мне подсаживается девушка.  Светлые  волосы,
чистая,  чуть бледная,  мaтовaя кожа,  простой белый костюм.  Ha
груди медальончик на золотой цепочке - наверняка, какая-то прог-
pammka. Симпатичная, и, слава Богу, неузнaвaемaя. Или сама конс-
труировaлa лицо, or relied on a rare picture, or found in
some movie, a cute, but not familiar face.    
     - Of course, - I turn to her. The bartender is already serving the girl
a glass of white wine.  Chilean, "Emperor". The girl has a good one
taste.                                                           
     “I see you here often,” says the girl.              
     Ding-ding! - an alarm bell in the brain.                 
     “It’s amazing,” I note. - I don’t come here very often -
yus.                                                            
     “I do it all the time,” says the girl.                   
    False.                                                      
    I can leave virtuality and check those two dozen
reference photographs stored on the computer. Visitors
bar for the last two months, it is always useful to remember new
tsa.                                                             
    But why, I already remember that I have never met this
tsa...                                                           
     - I wore other faces, - the girl seemed to guess my thoughts -
whether. - And you always wear one.                               
     - It's an expensive pleasure to change the image, - I'm starting camoy-
humiliate.  - Modeling yourself from Schwarzenegger and Stallone is stupid. A
I can’t afford to hire a specialist.                         
  - Depth itself is an expensive thing.                    
     The girl calls virtuality depth, and to me it’s hpabut-
Xia.                                                             
     Unlike all other behavior.                   
     I shrug. Strangeconversation.                        
     - Excuse me, you are Russian, aren't you? - asks the girl.       
     I nod. There are a lot of Russians in virtuality - nowhere in the world
control over computer time is not as bad as ours.
  - Excuse me... - the girl bites her lips, she is clearly worried -
Xia. - I’m probably extremely tactless, but... what’s your name?       
     I understand.                                                 
     - Not Dmitry Dibenko. This is exactly what you are interested in?      
    The girl looks searchingly into my face, then nods. In one gulp
finishes his wine.                                                  
     “I’m not lying,” I say softly. - Honestly.             
     - I believe, - the girl nods to the bartender, then hands me her hand -
ku. - Nadya.                                                     
     I shakepalm, I introduce myself:                             
     - Leonid.                                                  
  So we met, now we can speak on a first-name basis. Depth of democracy
tic. An overly polite tone here is an insult.                
     The girl throws her hair back, the gesture is natural and kpacu-
vyy. He hands the bartender a glass, who quickly fills it again.
He looks around the hall.                                         
     - Do you think does he really visit the virtual
ness?                                                          
     - I don’t know. Maybe. Are you a journalist, Nadya?                   
     - Yes, - she hesitates for a second, then takes out a vi-
Zitka, hands it to me: - Here...                                
     A complete business card - not only the Internet address, but also the holo-
owl phone name and surname. Nadezhda Meshcherskaya. Magazine "Den-
gi". Reporter.  "Windows-Xoym" is silent - that means the business card is clean,
This is really just an address, without any surprises. I hide the business card in
pocket, I nod:                                                  
     - Thank you.                                                 
     Unfortunately, there will be no return courtesy.  But Nadya doesn’t care about her
calculates.                                                   
     “It’s a strange thing, this depth,” she says, taking a sip of wine.
- Here I am now in Moscow, you are somewhere in Samara, that boy -
in Penza...                                                      
     "Boy" who looks like a cute Mexican from a television series,
notices her gaze and juts out his chin proudly. Yes, in observation
You can’t refuse Hada’s personality, he really is Russian...              
     - There's a crowd of amepukocob, - without the slightest respect for-
Nadya must, -that weirdo over there is clearly Japanese... see what
Did you draw your own eyes?  Every nation has its own complexes... And here we are
fooling around in a non-existent restaurant, imagining over a glass
a lot of alcohol, hundreds of computers are burning energy, processors are heating
are strained, telephone lines are surpassing megabytes meaningless
information...                                            
     - Information is never meaningless.                      
     - Yes, perhaps - Nadya glances at me quickly.  -
Let's just say - irrelevant information.  And all this is a new era of mi-
new technology?                                               
     - What did you expect?  File sharing and talking frequency
processors? We are people.                                      
     Nadya winces.                                             
  - We are people of a new era.  Virtuality can change the world, a
wewe prefer to make her up to match the old dogmas. nanotechnology,
used to simulate drinking - it's worse than a microscope for
driving nails...                                            
     - You are “Alexandrovka,” I guess.                   
     - Yes! - Nadya answers with a slight challenge.                    
    Aleksandrovtsy - followers of one science fiction writer from
St. Petersburg.  They do not advocate merging a person with a computer
rum, otherwise they expect some unimaginable benefits from virtuality.   
     - So what are you doing in this pointless establishment?  -
I ask.                                                    
     - I'm looking for Dibenko.  I really want to ask him... is he really
did you imagine everything? Is what is happening right, from his point of view? 
  - I see. But don't you like this place?          
     Nadya shrugs.                                     
     I extend my hand,I touch her face.                        
     - Warmth hands, astringency of wine, the coolness of the evening breeze and
the aroma of flowers, the splash of warm waves, the moon in the sky and the stinging sand under
feet - don't you like all this?                     
  - There is a reality for this, - she looks into my eyes -
for.                                                             
     - How often does all this coincide in reality?  Here is enough
definitely open the door,” I nod at the inconspicuous door in the “Japanese-
some part of the restaurant - and everything will be in place. And you never
I didn’t want to stand on the edge of the forest above the area on a cold autumn morning.
ragged bank of the river, drinking hot mulled wine from a pot-bellied side -
la... and no one around...                                        
     “The owner of this restaurant is a romantic,” says Nadya.       
     - Of course.  - Leonid, everything you said is correct. But I'm happy with this
events - a place in reality.                                    
     - Reality is not so accessible.                            
     - Like depth, Lenya. I don't know where you get the money from
for regular visits here and it’s none of my business. But billions
people have never been in the depths.                                
     - Millions of people have never seen television.             
     - Virtuality should not be an ersatz of reality, - confident
Nadya says every day.                                             
  - Yes, of course. Let's turn the poor and wretched into information hoarders.
mation, we will become impulses in the electronic network...                  
     - Leonid, you are familiar with the teachings of the Alexandrovites only by hearsay -
“Ke,” says Nadya with conviction. - Visit our church sometime. 
 I shrug.  Maybe I’ll visit. But in the depths there is a lot
interesting places. Life is not enough.                        
     - I’ll go, - Nadya gets up. Throws a coin on the bar counter. -
I still have half an hour today... I need to visit a couple of places.          
     - Looking for Dibenko? - I nod. - Or maybe a warm pe-
juice, Hawaiian beach and red Chilean?                        
    Nadya smiles.                                            
     - Lenya, this will no longer be work.  Evening beach and wine...
I'll want a continuation. And virtual sex is funny, but only if...
Are you sitting at home, in a locked room. I came in from work.  Six
computers in the room everyone is busy. Can you imagine what a spectacle
will I present for colleagues?                                 
     She is extremely otkpobehha and smart.  Good girl. God willing
so that inreality, Nadya was just as smart and open.   
     - Then - good luck, - I nod.                                
  - Thank you, mysterious stranger, - Nadya leans over and
pecks me on the cheek.                                            
     - Lenya, marker! - the pins on my shoulders whisper.           
     I take out a virophage handkerchief and wipe the lipstick off my cheek. I'm threatening Hade
finger:                                                        
     - I prefer to remain mysterious, girl.          
     She seems confused. However, she had enough endurance to
spread your arms and slowly leave.                        
     Damn. You ruined the song, you fool!                               
     We had such a good conversation...                                   
    I drain the glass in one gulp and snap my fingers beckoning the bartender.    
     - Gin and tonic,one to one!                               
     The bartender frowns, but mixes what is required. Crap. Order what
or tequila with tomato juice - what kind of face will he make?            
                                                                
                     TO BE CONTINUED...