"Herbert, Frank - The Eyes of Heisenberg" - читать интересную книгу автора (Herbert Brian & Frank)

Nourse spoke with a rumbling voice, 'You are the genetic engineer, Svengaard.'
'Thei Svengaard, yes... Nourse.' He took a deep breath wondering if they'd caught the hesitation while he remembered to use the Optiman's name.
Nourse smiled.
'You assisted recently in the genetic alterations of an embryo from a couple named Durant,' Nourse said. The chief engineer at the cutting was Potter.'
'Yes, I was the assistant, Nourse.'
'There was an accident during this operation,' Calapine said.
There was a strange musical quality in her voice, and Svengaard recognized she hadn't asked a question, but had reminded him of a detail to which she wanted him to give his attention. He felt the beginnings of a profound disquiet.
'An accident, yes... Calapine,' he said.
'You followed the operation closely?' Nourse asked.
'Yes, Nourse.' And Svengaard found his attention swinging to Schruille, who sat there brooding and silent.
'Now then,' Calapine said, 'you will be able to tell us what it is Potter has concealed about this genetic alteration.'
Svengaard found that he had lost his voice. He could only shake his head.
'He concealed nothing?' Nourse asked. Ts that what you say?'
Svengaard nodded.
'We mean you no harm, Thei Svengaard,' Calapine said. 'You may speak.'
Svengaard swallowed, cleared his throat. 'I...' he said. '... the question... I saw nothing... concealed.' He fell silent, then remembered he was supposed to use her name and said, 'Calapine,' just as Nourse started to speak.
Nourse broke off, scowled.
Calapine giggled.
Nourse said, 'Yet you tell us you followed the genetic alteration.'
'I... wasn't on the microscope with him every second,' Svengaard said. 'Nourse. I... uh... the duties of the assistant - instructions to the computer nurse, keying the feeder tapes and so on.'
'Say now if the computer nurse was a special friend of yours,' Calapine ordered.
'I... she'd...' Svengaard wet his lips with his tongue. What do they want? 'We'd worked together for a number of years, Calapine. I can't say she was a friend. We worked together.'
'Did you examine the embryo after the operation?' Nourse asked.
Schruille sat up, stared at Svengaard.
'No, Nourse,' Svengaard said. 'My duties were to secure the vat, check life support systems.' He took a deep breath. Perhaps they were only testing him after all... but such odd questions!
'Say now if Potter is a special friend,' Calapine ordered.
'He was one of my teachers, Calapine, someone I've worked with on delicate genetic problems.'
'But not in your particular circle,' Nourse said.
Svengaard shook his head. Again, he sensed menace. He didn't know what to expect - perhaps that the great globe would roll over, crush him, reduce his body to scattered atoms. But no, the Optimen couldn't do that. He studied the three faces as they became clear through the power curtains, seeking a sign. Clean, sterile faces. He could see the genetic markers in their features - they might be any Sterries of the Folk except for the Optiman aura of mystery. Folk rumor said they were sterile by choice, that they saw breeding as the beginning of death, but the genetic clues of their features spoke otherwise to Svengaard.
'Why did you call Potter on this particular problem?' Nourse asked.
Svengaard took a tight, quavering breath, said. 'He... the embryo's genetic configuration... near Opt. Potter is familiar with our hospital. He... I have confidence in him; brilliant sur - genetic engineer.'
'Say now if you are friendly with any other of our pharmacists,' Calapine said.
'They... I work with them when they come to our facility,' Svengaard said.
'Calapine,' Nourse supplied.
A trill of laughter shook her.
A dark flush spread up from Svengaard's collar. He began to feel angry. What kind of test was this? Couldn't they do anything but sit there, mocking, questioning?
Anger gave Svengaard command of his voice and he said, 'I'm only head of genetic engineering at one facility, Nourse -a lowly district engineer. I handle routine cuttings. When something requires a specialist, I follow orders, call a specialist. Potter was the indicated specialist for this case.'
'One of the specialists,' Nourse said.
'One I know and respect,' Svengaard said. He didn't bother adding the Optiman's name.
'Say now if you are angry,' Calapine ordered, and there was that musical quality in her voice.
'I'm angry.'
'Say why.'
'Why am I here?' Svengaard asked. 'What kind of interrogation is this? Have I done something wrong? Am I to be censured?'
Nourse bent forward, hands on knees. 'You dare question us?'
Svengaard stared at the Optiman. In spite of the tone of the question, the square, heavy-boned face appeared reassuring, calming. 'I'll do anything I can to help you,' Svengaard said. 'Anything. But how can I help or answer you when I don't know what you want?'
Calapine started to speak, but stopped as Nourse raised a hand.
'Our most profound wish is that we could tell you,' Nourse said. 'But surely you know we can have no true discourse. How could you understand what we understand? Can a wooden bowl contain sulphuric acid? Trust us. We seek what is best for you.'
A sense of warmth and gratitude permeated Svengaard. Of course he trusted them. They were the genetic apex of humankind. And he reminded himself: 'They are the power that loves us and cares for us.'
Svengaard sighed. 'What do you wish of me?'
'You have answered all our questions,' Nourse said. 'Even our non-questions are answered.'