Читать книгу Maxwell's Demon онлайн

33 страница из 77

‘But you’re still getting a good general movement, right?’

‘In patches,’ she said. ‘But it’s not like they just went from east to west or something.’

‘I suppose that would’ve been – oh, hang on.’

‘What?’ Imogen-on-the-screen moved her sleeping green head as if to shake something away.

‘You’re dreaming.’

‘Told you. Very weird dreams.’

‘I think you’re going to wake up in a minute.’

‘I am. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll try to call tomorrow, but if not, I’ll call Wednesday morning.’

‘Okay.’

‘My time.’

‘Okay. And get them to sort out your video calls.’

‘I will. But Johnny says my laptop’s killed itself.’

‘Nice.’

‘I know. Shit, right. I really need to—’

‘Okay. Love you.’

‘I love you too. And go out.’

‘I will.’

‘All right, bye.’

‘Bye.’

‘Bye bye bye . . .’

The line cut to a flat buzz.

I kept the handset to my ear for a moment then clicked it back into the dock.

Imogen-on-the-screen frowned in her sleep and tugged at the duvet. The viewer counter had been falling steadily, but once she started to dream it stabilised. Now it climbed back up in ones and twos towards the 900 mark.