"Dick, Philip K - We Can Remember It For You Wholesale UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dick Phillip K)

"Yes," he said, and gazed out the kitchen window at the
hovercars and traffic runnels, and all the little energetic people
hurrying to work. In a little while he would be among them.
As always.
"I'll bet it has to do with some woman," Kirsten said
witheringly.
"No," he said. "A god. The god of war. He has wonderful
craters with every kind of plant-life growing deep down in
them."
"Listen." Kirsten crouched down beside him and spoke
earnestly, the harsh quality momentarily gone from her voice.
"The bottom of the oceanour ocean is much more, an
infinity of times more beautiful. You know that; everyone
knows that. Rent an artificial gill-outfit for both of us, take a
week off from work, and we can descend and live down there
at one of those year-round aquatic resorts. And in addition"
She broke off. "You're not listening. You should be. Here is
something a lot better than that compulsion, that obsession
you have about Mars, and you don't even listen!" Her voice
rose piercingly. "God in heaven, you're doomed, Dougl
What's going to become of you?"
"I'm going to work," he said, rising to his feet, his break-
fast forgotten. "That's what's going to become of me."
She eyed him. "You're getting worse. More fanatical every
day. Where's it going to lead?"
"To Mars," he said, and opened the door to the closet to
get down a fresh shirt to wear to work.-
Having descended from the taxi Douglas Quail slowly
walked across three densely-populated foot runnels and to the
modern, attractively inviting doorway. There he halted, im-
peding mid-morning traffic, and with caution read the shift-
ing-color neon sign. He had, in the past, scrutinized this sign
before... but never had he come so close. This was very
different; what he did now was something else. Something
which sooner or later had to happen.
REKAL, INCORPORATED
Was this the answer? After all, an illusion, no matter how
convincing, remained nothing more than an illusion. At least
objectively. But subjectivelyquite the opposite entirely.
And anyhow he had an appointment. Within the next five
minutes.
Taking a deep breath of mildly smog-infested Chicago air,
he walked through the dazzling poly-chromatic shimmer of
the doorway and up to the receptionist's counter.
The nicely-articulated blonde at the counter, bare-bosomed
and tidy, said pleasantly, "Good morning, Mr. Quail."
"Yes," he said. "I'm here to see about a Rekal course. As I
guess you know."
"Not 'rekal' but recall," the receptionist corrected him. She
picked up the receiver of the vidphone by her smooth elbow