"L. Timmel Duchamp - Quinn's Deal" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duchamp L Timmel)

have demonstrated at least that much to you. Mr. Quinn, this is not something you can put off, like getting
your wisdom teeth removed, or cosmetic surgery, or a chip enhancement.?

The little bastard! Quinn wished he had the strength to lean over the desk, grab the guy by his big white
ruffled collar, and smear his lip gloss all over his fucking punky little face. ? I understand all right,? he
said irritably. ? I only got two years of college, but I'm not totally ignorant. My point is that I'm not
interested in swapping one disease for another.? He jerked his head towards the door. ? Life and health
go cheap in places like this. You guys see somebody like me coming, and a little light in your head goes
off, saying hey, we've got a live one here, ready for whatever we've got to throw at him. There are
deals, and there are deals.? Quinn crossed his arms over his chest and sat up as erectly as his fatigue
would allow. ? I don't have that great a job, maybe, but I'm no chump.?

Penneman's smile grew openly patronizing. ? This isn't a cable show, Mr. Quinn, but real life. I realize the
entertainment industry have given us a bad rap. What you don't understand is that we do our best to
match up patrons with clients, in order to serve our patients. If you'd allow me to explain just what the
situation is...?

Quinn, utterly dogged, said, ? No drug trials, no experimental procedures, no disease.?

Penneman said, in a supposedly earnest tone, ? Agreed.? (Quinn knew, though, not to trust any move or
tone coming out of Penneman now: not when they were explicitly down to dealing.) Penneman leaned
forward and spoke in a soft, confidential tone. ? The situation is this. The patron would cover your
expenses in exchange for having a very tiny chip implanted behind one of your eyes. That's all. You'd be
covered for regular checkups with a neurosurgeon, to make sure everything stays in order. There's
near-zero risk for complications. The patron gets to see what you see, and you get your genes cleaned of
diabetes.? Penneman ran the tip of his tongue over his soft, smooth lips. ? Pretty neat deal, wouldn't you
say?? (His smile was ever so gentle.)

Quinn tried to think. But he was so tired he couldn't make much sense of what such a deal would mean.
He rubbed his eyes, as though it were literally a problem of seeing what the con was. ? The whole thing
sounds damned kinky to me,? he said. ? Either that, or crooked. Like maybe somebody's using me to
spy or something. Or for some kind of weird, bent voyeurism.?

Penneman leaned back in his high-backed padded chair. ? If it helps, I can tell you the reason the patron
supplied on the Search form.? Tired as he was, Quinn caught the cagey wording. The medical aspects,
he sensed, were totally aboveboard. It was the ? patron's? purposes that were in question. Again,
Penneman tapped a fingernail against the screen, and read, ? Patron is a shut-in who does not get out.
Patron believes that, seeing through the eye of an evacuation engineer, patron will see more of life than is
otherwise possible.? Penneman held his hands palm down a few inches above his desk, and spread his
fingers. (The gesture reminded Quinn of old movies in which bimbo receptionists, having nothing better to
do, painted their nails and then held their fingers out to dry in exactly that way.)

When Quinn did not immediately respond, Penneman added, ? That sounds pretty square to me. You'd
be performing a humanitarian service, with a great benefit to yourself. What I see in this situation, Mr.
Quinn, is two potential Big Winners.?

A regular little huckster, Mr. Philip Penneman, Ph.D. But of course the point was to sell all the indigent
persons passing through his office a deal they couldn't refuse, right? As far as he and the system he
served were concerned, offering indigents such deals was an act of benevolence. No way could anyone
complain about exploitation here-not unless they wanted to face a charge of fomenting class warfare.