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

semi-precious tumbled stones. He was not sure that he liked
what he saw; the brilliance was too cold. "What do you want
now?" Quail said harshly. "You've broken my cover. Get out
of here before I take you all apart." He studied McClane.
"Especially you," he continued. "You're in charge of this
counter-operation."
Lowe said, "How long were you on Mars?"
"One month," Quail said gratingly.
"And your purpose there?" Lowe demanded.
The meager lips twisted; Quail eyed him and did not speak.
At last, drawling the words out so that they dripped with
hostility, he said, "Agent for Interplan. As I already told you.
Don't you record everything that's said? Play your vid-aud
tape back for your boss and leave me alone." He shut his
eyes, then; the hard brilliance ceased. McClane felt, instantly,
a rushing splurge of relief.
Lowe said quietly, "This is a tough man, Mr. McClane."
"He won't be," McClane said, "after we arrange for him to
lose his memory-chain again. He'll be as meek as before." To
Quail he said, "So this is why you wanted to go to Mars so
terribly badly."
Without opening his eyes Quail said, "I never wanted to go
to Mars. I was assigned itthey handed it to me and there I
was: stuck. Oh yeah, I admit I was curious about it; who
wouldn't be?" Again he opened his eyes and surveyed the
three of them, McClane in particular. "Quite a truth drug
you've got here; it brought up things I had absolutely no mem-
ory of." He pondered. "I wonder about Kirsten," he said, half
to himself. "Could she be in on it? An Interplan contact
keeping an eye on me ... to be certain I didn't regain my
memory? No wonder she's been so derisive about my wanting
to go there." Faintly, he smiled; the smileone of under-
standingdisappeared almost at once.
McClane said, "Please believe me, Mr. Quail; we stumbled
onto this entirely by accident. In the work we do"
"I believe you," Quail said. He seemed tired, now; the drug
was continuing to pull him under, deeper and deepef. "Where
did I say I'd been?" he murmured. "Mars? Hard to remember
1 know I'd like to see it; so would everybody else. But
me" His voice trailed off. "Just a clerk, a nothing clerk."
Straightening up, Lowe said to his superior, "He wants a
false memory implanted that corresponds to a trip he actually
took. And a false reason which is the real reason. He's telling
the truth; he's a long way down in the narkidrine. The trip is
very vivid in his mindat least under sedation. But apparent-
ly he doesn't recall it otherwise. Someone, probably at a
government military-sciences lab, erased his conscious mem-
ories; all he knew was that going to Mars meant something
special to him, and so did being a secret agent. They couldn't
erase that; it's not a memory but a desire, undoubtedly the