Joe Haldeman You Can Never Go Back

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.But the three center targets were gone: just tiny tattersof paper drifting in the air."I'll take it."He sold me a hip holster, twenty shells, a chest-and-back shield, and a daggerin a boot sheath.I felt more heavily armed than I had in a fighting suit.Butno waldos to help me cart it around.The monorail had two guards for each car.I was beginning to feel that all myheavy artillery was superfluous, until I got off at the Hyattsville station.Everyone who got off at Hyattsville was either heavily armed or had abodyguard.The people loitering around the station were all armed.The policecarried lasers.I pushed a "cab call" button, and the readout told me mine would be No.3856.I asked a policeman and he told me to wait for it down on the street; it wouldcruise around the block twice.During the five minutes I waited, I twice heard staccato arguments of gunfire,both of them rather far away.I was glad I'd bought the shield.Eventually the cab came.It swerved to the curb when I waved at it, the doorsliding open as it stopped.Looked as if it worked the same way as theautocabs I remembered.The door stayed open while it checked the thumbprint toverify that I was the one who had called, then slammed shut.It was thicksteel.The view through the windows was dim and distorted;probably thick bulletproof plastic.Not quite the same as I remembered.I had to leaf through a grimy book to find the code for the address of the barinHyattsville where I was supposed to meet the dealer.I punched it out and satback to watch the city go by.This part of town was mostly residential: grayed-brick warrens built aroundthe middle of the last century competing for space with more modern modularsetups and, occasionally, individual houses behind tall brick or concretewalls with jagged broken glass and barbed wire at the top.A few people seemedto be going somewhere, walking very quickly down the sidewalks, hands onweapons.Most of the people I saw were either sitting in doorways, smoking, orloitering around shop fronts in groups of no fewer than six.Everything wasdirty and cluttered.The gutters were clotted with garbage, and shoals ofwaste paper drifted with the wind of the light traffic.It was understandable, though; street-sweeping was probably a very high-riskprofession.The cab pulled up in front of Tom & Jerry's Bar and Grilland let me out afterI paid430K.I stepped to the sidewalk with my hand on the shotgun-pistol, but therewas nobody around.I hustled into the bar.It was surprisingly clean on the inside, dimly lit and furnished in fakeleather and fake pine.I went to the bar and got some fake bourbon and,presumably, real water for 120K.The water cost 20K.A waitress came over with a tray."Pop one, brother-boy?" The tray had a rack of old-fashioned hypodermicPage 28ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlneedles."Not today, thanks." If I was going to "pop one," I'd use an aerosol.Theneedles looked unsanitary and painful.She set the dope down on the bar and eased onto the stool next to me.She satwith her chin cupped in her palm and stared at her reflection in the mirrorbehind the bar."God.Tuesdays."I mumbled something."You wanna go in back fer a quickie?"I looked at her with what I hoped was a neutral expression.She was wearingonly a short skirt of some gossamer material, and it plunged in a shallow V inthe front, exposing her hipbones and a few bleached pubic hairs.I wonderedwhat could possibly keep it up.She wasn't bad looking, could have beenanywhere from her late twenties to her early forties.No telling what theycould do with cosmetic surgery and makeup nowadays, though.Maybe she wasolder than my mother."Thanks anyhow.""Not today?""That's right.""I can get you a nice boy, if ""No.No thanks." What a world.She pouted into the mirror, an expression that was probably older thanHomo sapiens."You don't like me.""I like you fine.That's just not what I came here for.""Well.different funs for different ones." She shrugged."Hey, Jerry.Getme a short beer."He brought it."Oh, damn, my purse is locked up.Mister, can you spare forty calories?" I hadenough ration tickets to take care of a whole banquet.Tore off a fifty andgave it to the bartender."Jesus." She stared [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Linki