"Kathleen Ann Goonan - Memory Dog" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goose Mother)

chair. She rubs ArnoldтАЩs hair. She lifts his chin and looks into his eyes,
kisses him swiftly, sighs, and gets his shoulders. тАЬGrab hold,тАЭ she says and
he obediently grasps the bar in front of him and pulls himself up, shaking,
his pale skin sagging from his ribs, his chest hair white although he is only
fifty. They made him old. She briskly dries his back, his buttocks, the backs
of his legs, and plops a dry towel onto the wheelchair seat. тАЬOkay.тАЭ He
gasps and falls back into his chair. SheтАЩs dried his face, so the wet tracks
are new tears. She is gentle; her anger abates when she touches him. I am
glad for her; I am sad for her; I am simply a wraith of emotion, rising around
her. I nudge her elbow; she pats my head absently.

****

After she dries and dresses him, he sits on the couch. He can sit up
without falling over. Every day she makes him exercise, moves his limbs,
tries to make him reach, or grip, or try to repeat sounds or words after her.
 тАЬKuh,тАЭ he says, slowly, drawing out the sound. тАЬKuuuuuh.тАЭ

I lie on my side by the stove into which she has shoved her split logs.
The television is on, tuned low. She thinks it helps Arnold. All that is on it is
stuff, stuff, stuff. Lies that they call news, celebrities, murders, gossip. A
low, growling sigh escapes me as I relax into the warmth.

I think of ArnoldтАЩs first face, when they were colleagues, not lovers,
and I was ElizabethтАЩs husband. Are these my memories? Hers? JollyтАЩs? I
no longer know.

That is what is so wonderful.

It is getting too hot in the cabin. I scratch the door, she lets me out,
and I lie on the porch, on guard.

Mist flows in and obscures some of the details. Everything is still
there, behind the mist, like brilliant red and yellow maples on a far ridge.
You know they are there, you just canтАЩt see them. Think of the cloud, with its
wind-driven fringes, as beautiful. Think of your mind as weather. Think of
your brain as a storm. Arnold is stuck in a storm, locked, unable to move.

Being a dog is a joyful thing.

****

First, way back when it was new, it was a memory pill. Yes, say it,
memory drug. I worked on a lot of the original research. Initially for those
who were terribly impaired, it was such a boon that its quick spread to the
rest of the population could not be stopped. It was to help people with
memory deficits, which is to say most people. And it was to help with useful
memories: where did I put the car keys, what the hell is his name?
However, it of course did not distinguish between users who were
terrifically impaired and the rest of us. And, most importantly, it did not sort