"Dick, Philip K - Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dick Phillip K)

choice is yours! " Very true, Rick thought as he opened the gate to his little pasture and
approached his electric sheep. But I can't emigrate, he said to himself. Because of my job.
The owner of the adjoining pasture, his conapt neighbor Bill Barbour, hailed him; he, like
Rick, had dressed for work but had stopped off on the way to check his animal, too.
"My horse," Barbour declared beamingly, "is pregnant." He indicated the big Percheron,
which stood staring off in an empty fashion into space. "What do you say to that?"
"I say pretty soon you'll have two horses," Rick said. He had reached his sheep, now; it lay
ruminating, its alert eyes fixed on him in case he had brought any rolled oats with him. The
alleged sheep contained an oat-tropic circuit; at the sight of such cereals it would scramble
up convincingly and amble over. "What's she pregnant by?" he asked Barbour. "The wind?"
"I bought some of the highest quality fertilizing plasma available in California," Barbour
informed him. "Through inside contacts I have with the State Animal Husbandry Board. Don't
you remember last week when their inspector was out here examining Judy? They're eager
to have her foal; she's an unmatched superior." Barbour thumped his horse fondly on the
neck and she inclined her head toward him.
"Ever thought of selling your horse?" Rick asked. He wished to god he had a horse, in fact
any animal. Owning and maintaining a fraud had a way of gradually demoralizing one. And
yet from a social standpoint it had to be done, given the absence of the real article. He had
therefore no choice except to continue. Even were he not to care himself, there remained his
wife, and Iran did care. Very much.
Barbour said, "It would be immoral to sell my horse."
"Sell the colt, then. Having two animals is more immoral than not having any."
Puzzled, Barbour said, "How do you mean? A lot of people have two animals, even three,
four, and like in the case of Fred Washborne, who owns the algae-processing plant my
brother works at, even five. Didn't you see that article about his duck in yesterday's
Chronicle? It's supposed to be the heaviest, largest Moscovy on the West Coast." The
man's eyes glazed over, imagining such possessions; he drifted by degrees into a trance.
Exploring about in his coat pockets, Rick found his creased, much-studied copy of
Sidney's Animal & Fowl Catalogue January supplement. He looked in the index, found colts
(vide horses, offsp.) and presently had the prevailing national price. "I can buy a Percheron
colt from Sidney's for five thousand dollars," he said aloud.
"No you can't," Barbour said. "Look at the listing again; it's in italics. That means they don't
have any in stock, but that would be the price if they did have."
"Suppose," Rick said, "I pay you five hundred dollars a month for ten months. Full
catalogue value."
Pityingly, Barbour said, "Deckard, you don't understand about horses; there's a reason
why Sidney's doesn't have any Percheron colts in stock. Percheron colts just don't change
hands Ч at catalogue value, even. They're too scarce, even relatively inferior ones." He
leaned across their common fence, gesticulating. "I've had Judy for three years and not in all
that time have I seen a Percheron mare of her quality. To acquire her I had to fly to Canada,
and I personally drove her back here myself to make sure she wasn't stolen. You bring an
animal like this anywhere around Colorado or Wyoming and they'll knock you off to get hold
of it. You know why? Because back before W.W.T. there existed literally hundreds Ч "
"But," Rick interrupted, "for you to have two horses and me none, that violates the whole
basic theological and moral structure of Mercerism."
"You have your sheep; hell, you can follow the Ascent in your individual life, and when you
grasp the two handles of empathy you approach honorably. Now if you didn't have that old
sheep, there, I'd see some logic in your position. Sure, if I had two animals and you didn't
have any, I'd be helping deprive you of true fusion with Mercer. But every family in this
building Ч let's see; around fifty: one to every three apts, as I compute it Ч every one of us