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Ribofunk :: Филиппо Пол Ди
Страница: 5 из 156Casio went onstage to talk to him, and I sat down at a table near one wall and ordered a cheer-beer.
Casio rejoined me. "Ginko says I can handle the megabops."
The cheer-beer had me relaxing so I had almost forgotten my problems. "That's trump, proxy. Listen, have a cheer-beer-it's your eft."
Casio sat and we talked a while about the good old days, when we were still kids in highschool, taking our daily rations of mnemotropins like good little drudges.
"You remember at graduation, when somebody spiked the refreshments with funky monkey?"
"Yeah. I never seen so many adults acting like apes before or since. Miz Spencer up on the girders-! "
"Boy, we were so young then."
"I was even younger than you, Dez. I was eleven and you were already twelve, remember?"
"Yeah, but them days are wiped now, Casio. We're adults ourselves now, with big adult probs." All my troubles
flooded back to me like ocean waves on the Big-One-revised California shoreline as I said this konky bit of wisdom.
Casio was sympathetic, I could fax that much, but he didn't have the answers to my probs any more than I did. So he just stood and said, "Well, Dez, I got to go play now." He took a few steps away from the table and then was snapped back to his seat like he had a rubber band strung to his ass.
"Hold on a millie," I said. "The wall has fused with your vest." I took out my little utility flashlight and lasered the wall pseudopod that had mated with Casio's clothing.
"Thanks, proxy," he said, and then was off.
I sat there nursing the dregs of my cheer-beer while the Nerveless tuned up. When the rickracks were spinning fast and the megabops were humming and everyone had their percussion suits on, they jumped into an original comp, "Efferent Ellie."
Forty– five minutes later, after two more cheer-beers thoughtfully provided by the management to the grateful friend of the band, I was really on the downlink with Casio and the Nerveless. I felt their music surging through me like some sonic trope. Tapping my foot, wangle-dangling my head like some myelin-stripped spaz, I was so totally downloading that I didn't even see Turbo and his set slope on into Club GaAs and surround me.
When the current song ended and I looked up, there they all were: Turbo and his main sleeve, Chuckie, who had her arm around his waist; Jeeter, Hake, Pablo, Mona, Val, Ziggy, Pepper, Gates, Zane, and a bunch of others I didn't know.
"Hah– hah-hah-how's it climbing, molars?" I said.
Casio rejoined me. "Ginko says I can handle the megabops."
The cheer-beer had me relaxing so I had almost forgotten my problems. "That's trump, proxy. Listen, have a cheer-beer-it's your eft."
Casio sat and we talked a while about the good old days, when we were still kids in highschool, taking our daily rations of mnemotropins like good little drudges.
"You remember at graduation, when somebody spiked the refreshments with funky monkey?"
"Yeah. I never seen so many adults acting like apes before or since. Miz Spencer up on the girders-! "
"Boy, we were so young then."
"I was even younger than you, Dez. I was eleven and you were already twelve, remember?"
"Yeah, but them days are wiped now, Casio. We're adults ourselves now, with big adult probs." All my troubles
flooded back to me like ocean waves on the Big-One-revised California shoreline as I said this konky bit of wisdom.
Casio was sympathetic, I could fax that much, but he didn't have the answers to my probs any more than I did. So he just stood and said, "Well, Dez, I got to go play now." He took a few steps away from the table and then was snapped back to his seat like he had a rubber band strung to his ass.
"Hold on a millie," I said. "The wall has fused with your vest." I took out my little utility flashlight and lasered the wall pseudopod that had mated with Casio's clothing.
"Thanks, proxy," he said, and then was off.
I sat there nursing the dregs of my cheer-beer while the Nerveless tuned up. When the rickracks were spinning fast and the megabops were humming and everyone had their percussion suits on, they jumped into an original comp, "Efferent Ellie."
Forty– five minutes later, after two more cheer-beers thoughtfully provided by the management to the grateful friend of the band, I was really on the downlink with Casio and the Nerveless. I felt their music surging through me like some sonic trope. Tapping my foot, wangle-dangling my head like some myelin-stripped spaz, I was so totally downloading that I didn't even see Turbo and his set slope on into Club GaAs and surround me.
When the current song ended and I looked up, there they all were: Turbo and his main sleeve, Chuckie, who had her arm around his waist; Jeeter, Hake, Pablo, Mona, Val, Ziggy, Pepper, Gates, Zane, and a bunch of others I didn't know.
"Hah– hah-hah-how's it climbing, molars?" I said.