"Hamilton, Peter F - Softlight Sins" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Peter F)

on one of the computer terminals. He greeted Douglas with a thin nod.
The third person in the laboratory was Dr Michael Elliot. He shared
Barbara Johnson's air of sheepish eagerness, desperately trying to
camouflage his feelings below a crust of professional detachment.
Adrian walked straight over to the chair, not looking round. The orderlies
who were escorting him slipped the restraint straps around his wrists and
legs.
The knot of tension in Douglas's stomach twisted sharply when Dr Elliot
swung the Softlight imprinter up, manoeuvring the black mask over Adrian's
eyes.
"Will I see anything?" Adrian asked suddenly.
"The laser operates predominantly in the green section of the spectrum,"
Dr Elliot explained. "It will be quite bright, but not painfully so."
"No lasting damage, eh?" there was a quaver in Adrian's voice.
Dr Elliot managed a sickly smile.
Barbara Johnson was voicelining one of the terminals, reeling off a string
of security codes to access the data core which stored the Softlight
sequence. Dr Elliot joined her, and added his authorisation code, then he
glanced at Judge Hayward. Her face showed nothing but regret. She jerked
her head down.
Douglas closed his eyes, secretly terrified that a flash of green light
would spill out from around the black strip, boring its way down his own
optical nerves, exploding in his brain. Somewhere in the distance he heard
Dr Elliot voiceline: "Expedite."

The imprinter arm retracted automatically. Adrian's face wore the look of
docile imbecility, eyes unfocused, every muscle relaxed.
Barbara Johnson walked forward carrying a white plastic sensor crown which
she settled around Adrian's head. "No brainwave activity above the
autonomic level," she reported, oh-so careful not to display any
satisfaction.
Douglas watched a bead of saliva leak from the corner of Adrian's mouth,
and turned away.
It worked, punishment and redemption wrapped in one neat package. Taking
away the threat and salvaging our conscience. I ought to be grateful. If
only Adrian didn't look so pitiful, so... wasted. But at least I cannot be
faulted for that, I did my best for him.
"Abschaum!"
The vehement shout electrified Douglas. He jerked round to see Barbara
Johnson stumbling back from Adrian in panic.
Adrian stared at them with a covetous birdlike expression, his nostrils
flaring as he sucked down deep breaths. He shouted at them again, the
words making no sense as he snarled and spat.
Douglas heard Harvey Boden saying, "That's German."
"What's happening?" Judge Hayward demanded.
Dr Elliot shook his head, staring at Adrian in numbed consternation.
"It didn't work," Douglas blurted.
"It did work," Barbara Johnson insisted. "The brainwave function was
zero."
"Does this sound like he's empty headed?" Douglas waved his hand angrily