Semmant by Vadim Babenko Read Free Book Online Page A

each other. They swore their love, and I responded in kind. I responded, and also wanted to become indivisible, indistinguishable…
    And then somehow I wound up with them in Marseille. They ditched me there, having hooked up with Greek sailors, and vanished without a word. Their father called and threatened me, though this was none of my doing. Chimeras protruded from behind every corner, and despair smothered me like a wet blanket. Then, at the port, some crooks mugged me brutally. It seemed the universe did not accept me and no longer wanted to keep me on. I saw again that chaos was everywhere, and I understood: chaos is death.
    There was a fleeting thought about ending my life. I mulled it over for a few hours as I lay on the threadbare couch in a hotel room I had no way to pay for. However, I was mistaken. The universe still had a lot in store for me. Late that night the telephone rang, and I heard the voice of Lucco Mancini. My path to a robot named Semmant had shortened by a thousand miles.

Chapter 5
    Lucco Mancini had a velvet baritone. He was a swindler and a gambler; I understood that right away. But, as became clear later, his fraud did not cross the lines set by law. That year, he stumbled upon a profitable venture and committed himself to it zealously. He conned those who wanted to get rich quick, and his field of dreams – where the trees had bank notes instead of leaves – was the gold and currency market: the biggest casino ever built.
    The market! It was from Mancini in particular I first heard this word. And he was the first one to get me interested in looking for hidden connections within this world of bitterness and hope, fantastic riches and lives destroyed. Oh, Lucco knew the right way to get to anyone. With me he started by hinting at the most unsolvable of riddles, and that immediately caught hold of and stirred my soul, as well as my will. My responsive fulfillment sensor was triggered by this new challenge thrown out to it, like a bone to a hungry dog. I leaned against the wall, wiped the sweat from my brow, and began to ask questions. Lucco understood, and I understood, too: I was hooked.
    The industry of ensnaring naïve souls, so trusting in their Lilliputian avarice, blossomed into a magnificent flower. So many of them landed in the net – from everywhere, from all over the world. Our computer files were checkered with the flags of different nations, which Lucco, just for fun, used to mark the names of new victims. Almost all of them ended up the same – regardless of their cleverness or determination – and roughly in the same amount of time. I knew some were losing the last money they had, but I didn’t pity them one bit; this was their personal choice.
    Mancini’s companies, with their feelers spread all over the World Wide Web, grew by leaps and bounds. He even took on a staff of employees – for the first time in his life, he admitted – rented an office, hooked up phones and fax machines. Cute girls chattered away in five languages, retired salesmen with a financial past signed on for work again, fooling more heads day after day. The players’ money, of course, never reached actual trading desks – they just placed bad bets, and Lucco pocketed their losses. If any happened to win, he would honestly give them the earnings, and then find a reason to push them out of the game. Everything ran like clockwork. And maybe it’s still running now – I wouldn’t be surprised if Mancini has already gotten as rich as Croesus.
    He needed me to set up a new lure. The trading machine, as it was called, was an automatic market player, a smart program for making money around the clock without any hassles or sleep breaks. Its role was to give the desperate ones some last elusive hope, and to inspire shy beginners to be bold and daring, make them believe in themselves. Lucco saw good prospects in this and offered me generous pay. He just wanted everything to be done fast, even if it was rushed