Paolo Bacigalupi - The Doubt Factory

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The Doubt Factory: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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In this page-turning contemporary thriller, National Book Award Finalist and
bestselling author Paolo Bacigalupi explores the timely issue of how public information is distorted for monetary gain, and how those who exploit it must be stopped.
Everything Alix knows about her life is a lie. At least that’s what a mysterious young man who’s
her keeps saying. But then she begins investigating the disturbing claims he makes against her father. Could her dad really be at the helm of a firm that distorts the truth and covers up wrongdoing by hugely profitable corporations that have allowed innocent victims to die? Is it possible that her father is the bad guy, and that the undeniably alluring criminal who calls himself Moses—and his radical band of teen activists—is right? Alix has to make a choice, and time is running out, but can she truly risk everything and blow the whistle on the man who loves her and raised her?

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Alix considered texting, then blew it off. Let them find out on their own about the school .

“I told you we were walking,” Sophie said smugly. They all shouldered their bags and headed out. Alix glanced back at her MINI longingly.

Cynthia caught the direction of her gaze. “So close, and yet so far.” She laughed.

“I parked right where they told me,” Alix complained again.

“And I’m sure Big Brother appreciates your obedience.”

“You think we’ll have school tomorrow?” Derek asked. He was gazing back at the vandalized science building. The red shape of the 2.0 tag was amazingly clear now that they were standing farther away from it.

“You worried about the Calc test?” Cynthia asked.

“Actually, I was wondering how much rat poop they’re going to have to clean up. That was a hell of a lot of rats.”

“What do you think the ‘2.0’ means?” Cynthia wondered.

Alix shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “Who knows? My dad says it’s just some guy who likes to vandalize things.”

“I don’t know,” Cynthia said doubtfully. “That’s an awful lot of trouble to go to just to paint some windows.”

“And to set up all that equipment,” Derek added. “That guy had to be in there half the night aiming all those water guns and then filling them with paint and then setting up some kind of system to make them shoot like that.”

“And don’t forget the rats,” Cynthia said. “That’s a hell of a lot of work to go to if it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t care what it means,” Sophie said. “I’m just glad to have a free day. I’m not ready for the Calc test.”

“Free days, all around,” Cynthia declared. “At least we can thank 2.0 for that.”

“Says the one person who doesn’t actually need an extra day to prep,” Derek said.

“Don’t blame me for being efficient. Every time I see you ‘studying,’ you’re napping in the back of the library.”

“That was only once, and it was because I stayed up all night trying to beat your curve,” Derek said.

Cynthia smirked. “You sound frustrated.”

“He’s not used to being second math nerd,” Alix said.

“He probably shouldn’t sleep so much, then.”

“It was one time!” Derek protested. “And I wasn’t asleep for more than ten minutes.”

“But you were snoring,” Sophie said. “I’ve got a recording.”

“It was one time.”

“It was kind of sweet,” Cynthia said. “I didn’t know someone could harmonize his own snoring like that.”

Derek gave up. “You know what? I’m just saying it would have been nice to see you flounder for a semester or two before you started kicking my butt.”

Everyone laughed at that. When Cynthia had come to Seitz at the beginning of the year, she’d entered into the college-prep environment with an aplomb that had left Alix writhing with envy. It would have been easy to hate the new girl for her brilliance—except that Cynthia had also turned out to be almost ridiculously considerate. The girl liked helping her fellow students in a way that was rare in Seitz’s übercompetitive-but-pretending-not-to-be environment, and she’d become Alix’s secret study weapon on more than one occasion. But still, most new students did at least have the common decency to flounder for a semester or two before they settled into the Seitz curriculum.

They continued trudging across town, headed for the leafy neighborhoods on the far side of town where property lots got larger and houses stepped farther and farther back from the road.

The sun was hot. Alix could feel herself starting to sweat. They all peeled off their blazers, but it didn’t help much. Derek was dripping by the time he separated for his own home, and everyone else wasn’t in much better shape. Annoyingly, Cynthia was barely sheened.

“See? You’re unnatural,” Derek complained as he departed up the cobblestone drive to his house. “You don’t even sweat.”

Cynthia laughed. “I don’t sweat Calc, that’s for sure.”

“He likes you,” Sophie said when he was gone. “You shouldn’t rub it in so much.”

“He needs it,” Cynthia said. “If he spent half as much time studying as he does talking about studying, he’d be kicking my ass.”

The girls continued to Alix’s house, where she was surprised to find Dad working, talking on his cell.

“—tell Owens that we’ve already been down that road. Widening the test population is a dead end—”

He turned and waved at Alix, and smiled at Cynthia and Sophie, then cupped his hand over the phone. “What are you girls doing home?”

“Long story,” Alix said as she tossed her blazer over the back of a kitchen stool.

She was about to tell him more, but he was already back to his phone conversation and absently waving her off. “That’s what George is trying to tell you! The Kimball-Geier numbers don’t add up….” He headed back into his office.

“Voice-mail children,” Sophie said. “Leave a message and description of your crisis, and we’ll get back to you as soon as we’re done ruling the universe.”

“He’s probably been on his phone all morning,” Alix said, trying not to feel annoyed and neglected as Dad pushed his office door halfway shut. She caught a glimpse of George Saamsi, her father’s business partner, through the doorway gap. His feet were kicked up on the desk as he typed away on a little Sony laptop. He smiled at Alix and waved.

Alix had known George for most of her life, an extrafamilial uncle who attended birthdays and holidays with steady reliability. George had what he termed a “robust” belly, and his head was almost completely bald, but he made up for the lack of hair with a thick salt-and-pepper beard that made him look a little like Santa Claus. The addition of gold-rimmed spectacles didn’t do much to dispel the illusion.

Alix went over to the office and closed the door the rest of way, then went and got Diet Cokes out of the fridge while Cynthia found glasses and filled them with ice from the icemaker. Alix poured, watching the foam rise and froth. She pressed the cold glass to her cheek.

“So who’s Santa Claus?” Cynthia asked as she took a sip.

Alix and Sophie cracked up. Alix tried to shush her. “It’s just George. He works with my dad.”

“I want to stick a corncob pipe in his mouth,” Cynthia said.

“That’s what I thought, too, the first time I saw him,” Sophie said.

“Sophie had a crush on him when we were in eighth grade,” Alix explained.

“Ew! I did not!” Sophie punched her arm, but she was laughing as she protested.

Cynthia was laughing, too. “He’s, um, furry .” Which sent them into more suppressed fits of laughter.

Alix made frantic shushing sounds. “Let’s go outside,” she said. “I don’t want to bother them.”

She led her friends out back by the pool. They dragged their aching feet out of school uniform–approved shoes and peeled off kneesocks.

“We should have brought swimsuits,” Cynthia commented as she rubbed her calves where the kneesocks had dug in. She was staring longingly at the cool waters of the pool.

“We could go out to the beach this weekend,” Sophie suggested. “It’s hot enough.”

“We could go now if the cops didn’t have our cars impounded,” Alix said.

“They better not mess up the paint on mine—” Sophie broke off as her phone rang. She checked the caller. “Shit. It’s my mom. I bet she finally heard about the school.”

“Voice-mail her,” Alix suggested. “Strike a blow for our generation.”

Sophie grinned, but she answered anyway. Sure enough, as soon as she took the call, Alix could hear Sophie’s mom start haranguing her. Sophie made a face as she hung up.

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