suggest?”
“Make contact with them, start negotiations. These people are essentially reasonable; they worked for this opportunity in advance. I think that they are waiting for your call. If you take too much time, every hour things will get worse. If you want, I can become a mediator and…”
A small pistol in the soldier’s hand silently made a shot. A-480 swayed and fell face down on the table.
“We should have done this before now.” The woman's voice can’t hide her joy. “What will we tell management?”
“Tell them the truth - things are bad and continue to deteriorate. The worst thing is that he was probably right about the negotiations, it’s necessary to consider the possibility. Call the Operations Center.”
25. Selection
“Doctor.”
“Left!”
“Actor.”
“Right!”
“Prostitute.”
“Right!”
“The real estate agent and…”
“I don’t fucking care who else! Right! Move on!”
“Unemployed.”
“Right!”
“Police.”
“Left!”
“Locksmith.”
“Left!”
“Publisher.”
“Right!”
The selection was quick. There were no documents: the names, dates and places of birth did not interest anyone here. Those who were too old were killed at the entrance. Others build a long line headed down the hall to the second turn, where they were all asked one question - “Work?”
“Copywriter.”
“Right!”
“Dentist.”
“Right, no, left!”
“Pilot.”
“Left!”
The vast majority went to the right door, behind which all of them found a spacious dimly-hall with closed gates and a couple of machine gunners at the entrance. Not many were able to go through the left door, although behind it was a similar hall. The vast majority don’t understand the difference, but some in the right hall were unhappy. Some of these malcontents tried to go back to the hallway and go through the left door, but they were shot at the entrance. The gunners had strict orders.
“Model.”
“Right!”
“Crane.”
“Left!”
Vampires don’t have to check the answer to the simple question, looking for confirmation in labor exchanges or the police databases. The secret is simple - the one who has been infected recently and has never satisfied hunger, for a while loses the ability to think coherently, and lost the ability to lie. Running down the long corridor people whose throat ripped, and clothes bathed in own blood, don’t understand why a man with a gun want to know whom they work and what they do, and they respond to his short question honestly and simply. Understanding that a small lie can save lives comes much later.
“Photographer.”
“Right!”
“Stripper.”
“Right!”
“Mechanic.”
“Left!”
The mechanic took a step to the side and went through the left door. The stockbroker, who followed after him, went right. Next, next, next.
STAGE THREE: DEFENCE AND ATTACK
26. Boozer
“Turn off this fucking music, damn you!”
There was no reply, and hideous music continued through the thin wall. This is why he woke up. The next shit morning begins or whatever time is it.
Boozer ran a hand through his pants - dry. It’s good luck that he didn’t piss - all his clean pants have long gone. So, how about refueling? On a wooden table, among packages of cheap grub, towered empty bottles. He tried them all; maybe there was something on the bottom… Not a drop. His hand fumbled under the chair on the dirty synthetic carpet. He felt a bottle and, to his joy, something gurgled. He almost brought the bottle to lips, but trembling fingers failed him, and he dropped his prize.
“Fuck!”
The bottle fell to the carpet, and the booze ran out. The morning was turning out to be extremely shitty.
“Refrigerator,” Boozer said to himself, then repeated several more times. ”My refrigerator.”
Yes, he had a refrigerator, and in there, on the bottom shelf surrounded by rotting vegetables, must lay a bottle of vodka. It is there, he put it there just in
“Make contact with them, start negotiations. These people are essentially reasonable; they worked for this opportunity in advance. I think that they are waiting for your call. If you take too much time, every hour things will get worse. If you want, I can become a mediator and…”
A small pistol in the soldier’s hand silently made a shot. A-480 swayed and fell face down on the table.
“We should have done this before now.” The woman's voice can’t hide her joy. “What will we tell management?”
“Tell them the truth - things are bad and continue to deteriorate. The worst thing is that he was probably right about the negotiations, it’s necessary to consider the possibility. Call the Operations Center.”
25. Selection
“Doctor.”
“Left!”
“Actor.”
“Right!”
“Prostitute.”
“Right!”
“The real estate agent and…”
“I don’t fucking care who else! Right! Move on!”
“Unemployed.”
“Right!”
“Police.”
“Left!”
“Locksmith.”
“Left!”
“Publisher.”
“Right!”
The selection was quick. There were no documents: the names, dates and places of birth did not interest anyone here. Those who were too old were killed at the entrance. Others build a long line headed down the hall to the second turn, where they were all asked one question - “Work?”
“Copywriter.”
“Right!”
“Dentist.”
“Right, no, left!”
“Pilot.”
“Left!”
The vast majority went to the right door, behind which all of them found a spacious dimly-hall with closed gates and a couple of machine gunners at the entrance. Not many were able to go through the left door, although behind it was a similar hall. The vast majority don’t understand the difference, but some in the right hall were unhappy. Some of these malcontents tried to go back to the hallway and go through the left door, but they were shot at the entrance. The gunners had strict orders.
“Model.”
“Right!”
“Crane.”
“Left!”
Vampires don’t have to check the answer to the simple question, looking for confirmation in labor exchanges or the police databases. The secret is simple - the one who has been infected recently and has never satisfied hunger, for a while loses the ability to think coherently, and lost the ability to lie. Running down the long corridor people whose throat ripped, and clothes bathed in own blood, don’t understand why a man with a gun want to know whom they work and what they do, and they respond to his short question honestly and simply. Understanding that a small lie can save lives comes much later.
“Photographer.”
“Right!”
“Stripper.”
“Right!”
“Mechanic.”
“Left!”
The mechanic took a step to the side and went through the left door. The stockbroker, who followed after him, went right. Next, next, next.
STAGE THREE: DEFENCE AND ATTACK
26. Boozer
“Turn off this fucking music, damn you!”
There was no reply, and hideous music continued through the thin wall. This is why he woke up. The next shit morning begins or whatever time is it.
Boozer ran a hand through his pants - dry. It’s good luck that he didn’t piss - all his clean pants have long gone. So, how about refueling? On a wooden table, among packages of cheap grub, towered empty bottles. He tried them all; maybe there was something on the bottom… Not a drop. His hand fumbled under the chair on the dirty synthetic carpet. He felt a bottle and, to his joy, something gurgled. He almost brought the bottle to lips, but trembling fingers failed him, and he dropped his prize.
“Fuck!”
The bottle fell to the carpet, and the booze ran out. The morning was turning out to be extremely shitty.
“Refrigerator,” Boozer said to himself, then repeated several more times. ”My refrigerator.”
Yes, he had a refrigerator, and in there, on the bottom shelf surrounded by rotting vegetables, must lay a bottle of vodka. It is there, he put it there just in
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