"George Alec Effinger - Posterity" - читать интересную книгу автора (Effinger George Alec)

"I'm glad," said the priest. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Well, actually, there is. On your way out, I'd be grateful if you'd ask the nurse if I can have
my shot."
 "You know, when you get out of the hospital, you won't be able to get those shots. You
shouldn't start relying too heavily on drugs. You'll do better to look for the inner strength God
has given you."

"Yes, Father. Would you ask the nurse though?"

The kindly priest nodded. "Of course."

Courane looked at the priest's compassionate face, his own expression blank. Let me
slash you up the middle, he thought, and we'll see what your inner strength is like. "Thank
you, Father," he said.

"You know", you should get up and walk. It's the best thing for you. If you line in bed too
long, it will just make it harder for you later on."
"Yes, Father."

"I'll include you in my prayers, my son."

"Thank you, Father." The priest went on to the next patient. Courane checked his watch;
it wasn't even 6:30 yet.
At seven o'clock a new patient was brought into the ward and put in the empty bed next
to Courane's. "This is really disgusting," said one of the orderlies, as he helped lift the
unconscious man into the bed.

"You haven't worked here very long, if you think this is bad," said a second orderly.

"I've never smelled anything this bad in my life. Geez, I'm glad I m not going to have to
bathe this sucker."

One of the men across the aisle complained. "That stinks" he said. "We don't want him
here."
"Gangrene," said the .second orderly. "The cops found this guy sleeping in a doorway.
his leg will have to come off."
"I don't give a damn what his problem is," said the man across the aisle. "Get him out of
here. Put him out in the hall or something."
The first orderly gave the patient a malicious grin. "If he wakes up, you can make friends.
Sometimes you got to overlook something like a rotting leg. You can't hold that against him.
I'm sure he wouldn't talk that way about your bullet wound."
"The bullet wound is my business," said the angry man. "I don't go pushing it on other
people. That bum is inflicting his smell on everybody on this ward."

The two orderlies shrugged and headed toward the door. "Orderly," called Courane. The
stench of the man's gangrenous leg was almost suffocating, and Courane could barely
breath without gagging.

"You want to complain, too, mister?" said the first orderly.