LITMIR.BIZ

      ISBN 978-5-4485-9782-4

      Created with Ridero smart publishing system

      Heir

      Hooray! I was twelve years old!

      A lot of gifts, from all my two moms and four dads! But, what is this? Machine on the string? I can exclude this donor from a will! We must be serious. I’m already an adult.

      By the way, I have not forgotten my new name yet.

      My name is Dean.

      Yesterday I successfully passed the exam for children’s spontaneity. From this day, you need to fill out a bunch of all forms, much more than usual. All about health – there are no palpitations, nightmares, depression. And – a page once a month – that comes to mind. A notebook can only be used by me. An electronic lock opens if I look in the well and say “Sim-Sim, open.” So my personal doctor Max ordered, adding that, in addition to the possibility of free choice, I have the right to … how is it? confidentiality. In general, many different doctors are interested in me: psychologists, biologists, psychophysicists, their assistants. So I am writing, in a neat handwriting, a report on everything I see. Soon I’ll get to know all my dads and moms – I try to be a good boy.

      Edgar is my beloved father. He’s a cool surfer. Each day of the last month took me to the Ocean, to catch the Wave. I think “Wave” should be written just like that, with a capital letter, as he pronounces this word. It’s great to be standing in the streams of the breeze, to roll on the board by the water curled into the roll to the hot shore. Of course, at first it did not work out that much, but Eddie patience taught me everything. He was pleased with how exactly I am borrowing his movements and accepting the prescribed instructions.

      After skiing, we usually went to the beach bar, my father ordered himself whiskey, cocktails, and me – allowed soda or tea. I know he’s got something wrong with his stomach, but he does not really bother about it, because he’s counting on me now. By the way, to enter the system of the Heirs and to get acquainted with me, he sold most of his business. Clear father. I remember especially how Eddie twists a glass with his burning adult drink in his hand, takes a sip at a sip, happily frowns and smiles: “Soon, Dean, son, you too can do this, then you’ll understand how delicious it is.”

      Papa Duck. He is over eighty, but still very cheerful. Surname – Rockefeller, everyone usually utters in a whisper. He, too, for some reason is confident in me, as in himself. He thinks that the stupid boy, that is, me, was extremely lucky with him.

      We have already visited five times on the board of directors of the corporation that he gathers. After the meeting, Duck let me sit on his, a high-backed chair, behind a mighty, probably half of a tennis court, a table. Nothing, between us boys, this, especially tempting. Directors are all boring, worried about nonsense, talking as if by numbers. And the food is so-so – endless fried eggs and bacon, toast, orange juice and warm milk.

      Duck showed me a map of the world, on it arrows, flags and again – stupid numbers. Said: it’s bound to be ours. My. More precisely, probably, it. This Rockef got confused. But it seems, nevertheless, Duck loves me in his own way – he has turned pink, as if woke up from a bad dream, does not let go of himself a single step. Well, what about Dean?

      I did not decide if I wanted to be like Rockef, I do not particularly like such a dull wealth. It’s better to have an ordinary, medium-sized company for making interesting things – scuba diving, wetsuits, masks with tubes – but at the same time you want to ride a surf, without boring directors and sterilized milk. Be the champion of the beach, dance with gay girls lambada, samba and sincerely play the banjo.

      …This month I spent with my mother Linda. She’s all brand-new. All, from the trendy shoes, to the cap of haute couture. Probably, she is thirty-four – although I have little experience in such things. Max hinted at this lady over seventy. However, the woman cares about her appearance as no one. Attends courses of personal growth. He does not want to grow old, and this is the most important thing for health and external attractiveness.

      This mother has a huge, like a bus, a wardrobe, with mountains of clothes. She, frankly, has persuaded me to try on a suit of the girl-teenager. Probably kept it in the chest-freezer from the time when she was wearing it herself.

      I made up my lips and put my eyebrows in ink.

      I tried on, especially not embarrassed by my presence, men’s pants, suits, jackets. She got up close, embraced, looked into the wide mirror and, throwing her head back, laughed for a long time.

      Pope Erwin.

      He, of course, does not ride the surf like a champion of the beach, but he is the master of everything! His firm for the production of great-looking young people, helping the elderly to serve themselves. And they have other things to do-to fight people, climb under water, repair drilling rigs, and all that. Erwin said; before there were even more than many, orders for personal avatars.

      – Dress-up this, son, – Dad brought me a hat with mirror glasses. – Standard, soft, comfortable helmet avatar, pride of the company. How do you find design? Conveniently? Now you will become strong, steadfast, almost immortal. Do you want to be the heir of all this?

      He coughed slightly.

      I answered in the sense that, at the Internat, we were taught almost nothing, forbade people to remember something for too long, rarely allowed to watch TV, so as not to clog the brain with nonsense. Often changed the names of pupils. Actually, I was considered too smart there, although not so much, of course, to get married. It’s all interesting, but you need to think carefully.

      “It will take more,” my father put his feet in tattered shoes, put gloves on his hands with supposedly living suckers, immediately sucked into the skin. – Did the picture go? This is a view from the avatar. Now you can make your incarnation move, do whatever you like.

      I waved my hand, moved my foot, something buzzed in the next room; the image jerked, rose and swam.

      – Well done, son! Come here!

      I quickly realized what was what, and, pushing the door with the plastic arm of the robot, burst into our room.

      “You can switch to another avatar,” Papa suggested, coping with the next, attacked cough. “Walking along the edge of Niagara?”

      A new image jumped into my eyes, even more voluminous and clearer than a minute ago. Roaring shaggy water, under the feet of the abyss, probably a mile away, behind a striped iron grid – indifferent tourists looking at me.

      On the bridge, thrown over the waterfall, plastic plowshaws like me went back and forth, sometimes leaning over and peering into the depths.

      “And you can do it, Dean,” his father urged. “Do you want to jump down?” Come on! For you, not sorry for the most advanced model.

      I hesitated, stepped into the abyss. The image flashed – the edge of the cliff – the sky – the water – the bubbles, it shook and collapsed to the point. I felt a shiver run down my spine, I sighed, shook myself and came to my senses. So what?

      I took off my helmet, went to the table and drank some water.

      – Liked?

      – Yes, father.

      – The second, third, and subsequent times will not be so, unfortunately. At first people are interested to be present in such a body – but the buzz quickly fades to nothing. After all, the robot, in fact, not you. Even over a deep abyss, after a couple of repetitions, you do not feel pleasant excitement, the sensation of a stealthy mystery. Adrenaline almost does not stand out, the pulse is equal, as when watching a distant war on TV. Laughter, not a delightful horror. Success avatars have in battles with living people, this keeps the firm, but … but. Now at the height of other methods, and you, the sonny of them well know.

      Papa again coughed, dived under the curtain, swallow medical oxygen.

      We still

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