Книга только для ознакомления
. "Gwen! It lost
the program!"
She reached over and clouted it. The bum schedule was not restored-a RAM,
once crashed, is gone forever, like a burst soap bubble-but it did boot up
again. A cursor appeared in the upper left comer of the screen and blinked
inquiringly. Gwen said, "What time is your next bum, dear? And how long?"
'Twenty-one, forty-seven, seventeen, I think, for, uh, eleven seconds. I'm
fairly sure it was eleven seconds."
"I check you on both figures. So do that one by hand, then ask it to
recompute what it lost."
"Righto." I typed in the bum. "After this one I'm ready to accept control
from Hong Kong."
"So we're out of the woods, dear-one bum by hand and then ground control
takes over. But we'll recompute just for insurance."
She sounded more optimistic than I felt. I could not remember what vector
and altitude I was supposed to achieve for take-over by ground control. But I
had no time to worry about it; I had to set up this bum.
I typed it in: 21-47-17.0- -11.0 seconds 21-47-28.0
I watched the clock and counted with it. At exactly seventeen seconds past
2147 I jabbed the firing button, held it down. The jet fired. I don't know
whether I fired it or the computer did. I held my finger down as the seconds
ticked off and lifted it exactly on eleven seconds.
The jet kept on firing.
("-run in circles, scream and shout!") I wiggled the firing button
|
