Дэймон Найт: Orbit 3

Dimly he recalled the thousands on the waiting lists of the Securo Corporation. They’d want it. Everyone would want it but a few who, like Kagle, might see the threat. They would cry out. Their cries would be lost in the howls of happiness". Get it over. Nothing so bad ever again.

I’ve been there.

Did they know what it would do? Did they care? No, they wouldn’t care, they’d weep for joy as it multiplied, on, on, to the ends of the earth—

But though he knew these things in a dim way, he couldn’t put them all into words. It took too much effort.

“Worl’s engine,” Cassius whimpered. “Joy don, worl’s engine.”

Or had he said it aloud at all? He wasn’t sure. He’d made the effort in his skull. Whether the effort had stirred his voice box, lips, tongue, he couldn’t say. He felt so immeasurably tired. He crawled back up on the stooL Even his sense of urgency, alarm, had aborted. No longer could he be sure why he’d spoken. It certainly couldn’t have been for any good reason. He didn’t have any good reasons.

Still, something made him squeak it once more, “Worl’s engine.”

The barkeep clucked his tongue. “Mister? The lady can’t hear you.”

A feeble whisper, dying: “Worl’s engine.”

“Mister, you’re dreaming. The lady left.”

That roused him a little. “Use have a dream. This dog. Chasin me. Not anymore. No dreams since—”

The sentence dribbled off. It didn’t seem worth finishing. Only the drink. His hand crawled out. Only the drink seemed worth finishing. And he wasn’t even certain about that, really.