"Asimov, Isaac - Profession" - читать интересную книгу автора (Asimov Isaac)

No,sir.ТТ
Good. Now I ll tell you exactly what we ll do first. I m gomg to put

these wires on your forehead just over the corners of your eyes. TheyТll stick there but they wonТt hurt at all. Then, IТll ~ on something that wifi make a buzz. It will sound funny and it may tickle you, but it wonТt hurt. Now if it does hurt, you tell me, and IТll turn it off right away, but it wonТt hurt. All right?Ф
George nodded and swallowed.

УAre you ready?Ф
George nodded. He closed his eyes while the doctor busied himself. His parents had explained this to him. They, too, had said it wouldnТt hurt, but then there were always the older children. There were the ten- and twelveyear-olds who howled after the eight-year-olds waiting for Reading Day, УWatch out for the needle.Ф There were the others who took you off in confidence and said, УThey got to cut your head open. They use a sharp knife that big with a hook on it,Ф and so on into horrifying details.
George had never believed them but he had had nightmares, and now closed his eyes and felt pure terror.
He didnТt feel the wires at his temple. The buzz was a distant thing, and there was the sound of his own blood in his ears, ringing hollowly as though it and he were in a large cave. Slowly he chanced opening his eyes.
The doctor had his back to him. From one of the instruments a strip of paper unwound and was covered with a thin, wavy purple line. The doctor tore off pieces and put them into a slot in another machine. He did it over and over again. Each time a little piece of film came out, which the doctor looked at. Finally, he turned toward George with a queer frown between his eyes.
The buzzing stopped.
George said breathlessly, УIs it over?Ф
The doctor said, УYes,Ф but he was still frowning.
УCan I read now?Ф asked George. He felt no different.
The doctor said, УWhat?Ф then smiled very suddenly and briefly. He said, УIt works fine, Geoge. YouТll be reading in fifteen minutes. Now weТre going to use another machine this time and it wifi take longer. IТm going to cover your whole head, and when I turn it on you wonТt be able to see or hear anything for a while, but it wonТt hurt. Just to make sure IТm going to give you a little switch to hold in your hand. If anything hurts, you press the little button and everything shuts off. All right?Ф
In later years, George was told that the little switch was strictly a dummy; that it was introduced solely for confidence. He never did know for sure, however, since he never pushed the button.
A large smoothly curved helmet with a rubbery inner lining was placed over his head and left there. Three or four little knobs seemed to grab at him and bite into his skull, but there was only a little pressure that faded. No pain.
The doctorТs voice sounded dimly. УEverything all right, George?Ф
And then, with no real warning, a layer of thick felt closed down all about him. He was disembodied, there was no sensation, no universe, only himself and a distant murmur at the very ends of nothingness telling him somethingЧtelling himЧtelling himЧ He strained to hear and understand but there was all that thick felt between.
Then the helmet was taken off his head, and the light was so bright that it hurt his eyes while the doctorТs voice drummed at his ears.

The doctor said, УHereТs your card, George. What does it say?Ф
George looked at his card again and gave out a strangled shout. The marks werenТt just marks at all. They made up words. They were words just as clearly as though something were whispering them in his ears. He could hear them being whispered as he looked at them.
УWhat does it say, George?Ф
УIt saysЧit saysЧТPlaten, George. Born 13 February 6492 of Peter and Amy Platen in. . .С УHe broke off.
УYou can read, George,Ф said the doctor. УItТs all over.Ф
УFor good? I wonТt forget how?Ф
УOf course not.Ф The doctor leaned over to shake hands gravely. УYou will be taken home now.Ф
It was days before George got over this new and great talent of his. He read for his father with such facility that Platen, Senior, wept and called relatives to tell the good news.
George walked about town, reading every scrap of printing he could find and wondering how it was that none of it had ever made sense to him before.
He tried to remember how it was not to be able to read and he couldnТt. As far as his feeling about it was concerned, he had always been able to read. Always.

At eighteen, George was rather dark, of medium height, but thin enough to look taller. Trevelyan, who was scarcely an inch shorter, had a stockiness of build that made УStubbyФ more than ever appropriate, but in this last year he had grown self-conscious. The nickname could no longer be used without reprisal. And since Trevelyan disapproved of his proper first name even more strongly, he was called Trevelyan or any decent variant of that. As though to prove his manhood further, he had most persistently grown a pair of sideburns and a bristly mustache.
He was sweating and nervous now, and George, who had himself grown out of УJaw-jeeФ and into the curt monosyllabic gutterality of УGeorge,Ф was rather amused by that.
They were in the same large hall they had been in ten years before (and not since). It was as if a vague dream of the past had come to sudden reality. In the first few minutes George had been distinctly surprised at finding everything seem smaller and more cramped than his memory told him; then he made allowance for his own growth.
The crowd was smaller than it had been in childhood. It was exclusively male this time. The girls had another day assigned them.
Trevelyan leaned over to say, УBeats me the way they make you wait.Ф
УRed tape,Ф said George. УYou canТt avoid it.Ф
Trevelyan said, УWhat makes you so damned tolerant about it?Ф
УIТve got nothing to worry about.Ф
УOh, brother, you make me sick. I hope you end up Registered Manure Spreader just so I can see your face when you do.Ф His somber eyes swept the crowd anxiously.
George looked about, too. It wasnТt quite the system they used on the
children. Matters went slower, and instructions had been given out at the start in print (an advantage over the pre-Readers). The names Platen and Trevelyan were well down the alphabet still, but this time the two knew it.
Young men came out of the education rooms, frowning and uncomfortable, picked up their clothes and belongings, then went off to analysis to learn the results.
Each, as he came out, would be surrounded by a clot of the thinning crowd. УHow was it?Ф УHowТd it feel?Ф УWhacha think ya made?Ф УYa feel any different?Ф
Answers were vague and noncommittal.
George forced himself to remain out of those clots. You only raised your own blood pressure. Everyone said you stood the best chance if you remained calm. Even so, you could feel the palms of your hands grow cold. Funny that new tensions came with the years.
For instance, high-specialty professionals heading out for an Outworld were accompanied by a wife (or husband). It was important to keep the sex ratio in good balance on all worlds. And if you were going out to a Grade A world, what girl would refuse you? George had no specific girl in mind yet; he wanted none. Not now! Once he made Programmer; once he could add to his name, Registered Computer Programmer, he could take his pick, like a sultan in a harem. The thought excited him and he tried to put it away. Must stay calm.
Trevelyan muttered, УWhatТs it all about anyway? First they say it works best if youТre relaxed and at ease. Then they put you through this and make it impossible for you to be relaxed and at ease.Ф