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Ribofunk :: Филиппо Пол Ди
Страница: 71 из 156Kitchener's smug look didn't help my concentration.
Then something from the Day-Lewis bio came back to me. The father's job.
I turned to Kitchener. "Who field-tested the Blankie?"
"Ah, that employee is currently on extended leave-"
"He is lying," said the Viper.
Pay dirt! K-mart jumped in.
"Allow me to read you your rights under the NU Treaty. You have the right to a kibernetic counsel rated at Turing Level Five-"
Kitchener laughed like a man caught with his hand in his pants at a Amish church picnic. "Certainly you don't intend to arrest me for a mere slip of the tongue, Officers?
What I meant to say is that the employee in question had to be fired under prejudicial circumstances."
"What's the name? We'll want all your files on him. And what did he do?"
"His name… Um, let me recall. Bert something. Bertrand Mayr."
"And why did you let him go?"
"Flagrant misuse and theft of corporate property."
"Precisely?"
Kitchener smoothed his saurian crest again. "A small matter of sex. He was having sex with the product."
***
Sometimes I try to imagine what it was like to live in reedpair times. It was only last century, after all. A lot of that cohort are still actually hanging around, admittedly without many of their original organs or neurons. But even when talking with them, you can't really understand what their world was truly like. One of the biggest puzzles is how they managed sex. They had to cope with deadly venereal diseases, intractable neuroses, fixed morphologies, social condemnation of natural urges, and merely human sex-workers who offered mostly heartless, perfunctory service due to their oppression and mistreatment.
Today, gratuitous venereal diseases have been extirpated. (Deliberately inflicted ones are, of course, still a problem. I remember last year the tricky time we had tracking down the perp spreading neo-koro, the penis-inversion plague.) The witch doctors of psychology have been replaced
by trope dosers. Malleable anatomy is no longer destiny. Laws finally reflect actual desires (at least in the NU; the situation elsewhere varies). And playpets bred and trained for their essential erotic functions come in a nearly infinite variety. (And humane treatment extends even beyond their useful stage. I understand that their retirement ranches offer a wide range of crafts and games.
Then something from the Day-Lewis bio came back to me. The father's job.
I turned to Kitchener. "Who field-tested the Blankie?"
"Ah, that employee is currently on extended leave-"
"He is lying," said the Viper.
Pay dirt! K-mart jumped in.
"Allow me to read you your rights under the NU Treaty. You have the right to a kibernetic counsel rated at Turing Level Five-"
Kitchener laughed like a man caught with his hand in his pants at a Amish church picnic. "Certainly you don't intend to arrest me for a mere slip of the tongue, Officers?
What I meant to say is that the employee in question had to be fired under prejudicial circumstances."
"What's the name? We'll want all your files on him. And what did he do?"
"His name… Um, let me recall. Bert something. Bertrand Mayr."
"And why did you let him go?"
"Flagrant misuse and theft of corporate property."
"Precisely?"
Kitchener smoothed his saurian crest again. "A small matter of sex. He was having sex with the product."
***
Sometimes I try to imagine what it was like to live in reedpair times. It was only last century, after all. A lot of that cohort are still actually hanging around, admittedly without many of their original organs or neurons. But even when talking with them, you can't really understand what their world was truly like. One of the biggest puzzles is how they managed sex. They had to cope with deadly venereal diseases, intractable neuroses, fixed morphologies, social condemnation of natural urges, and merely human sex-workers who offered mostly heartless, perfunctory service due to their oppression and mistreatment.
Today, gratuitous venereal diseases have been extirpated. (Deliberately inflicted ones are, of course, still a problem. I remember last year the tricky time we had tracking down the perp spreading neo-koro, the penis-inversion plague.) The witch doctors of psychology have been replaced
by trope dosers. Malleable anatomy is no longer destiny. Laws finally reflect actual desires (at least in the NU; the situation elsewhere varies). And playpets bred and trained for their essential erotic functions come in a nearly infinite variety. (And humane treatment extends even beyond their useful stage. I understand that their retirement ranches offer a wide range of crafts and games.