"Jeffrey Lord - Blade 02 - The Jade Warrior" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lord Jeffery)

remember very little of our dimension while he was in Alb, and when he returned to us he could
remember very little of Alb. Some things, of course, but not many. Obviously something had to be done."
"Obviously," said Mr. Newton Anthony, then looked as he wished he had not spoken.
"Since the whole purpose of these explorations through the computer is to acquire
knowledgeтАФtreasure perhaps, but knowledge first, by which I mean the possible exploitation of
civilizations that have acquired a vaster knowledge than our own. And I must admit that in this the
journey to Alb was certainly a failure. Still, none of it is much good if our messenger cannot remember
what he sees and learns and then bring it back. On Blade's first journey through the dimensional rift it did
not make much difference. But I could not risk it again.
"I had to begin work on the memory molecule, Mr. Anthony. And I did, at once. I tried everything. I
used known techniques and I invented my own. I tried any number of combinations of disciplines, even
complex permutations of the portmanteau theory, in which Blade himself would have to consciously do
the work. But this I really did not wantтАФthat Blade should have to consciously remember. I wanted to
create an automatic memory and a storage well, so that Blade could be left free to fight for his existence
in whatever new dimension he lands this time.
"I isolated the memory molecule, Mr. Anthony, and I borrowed a drug from the Americans,
something called pentylenetetrazolтАФ"
Here J winced and had a large drink of brandy. "I also borrowedтАФsome might say stoleтАФa great
deal of data on the famous 598 rat experiment." Lord Leighton chuckled a little evilly. "We scientists can
be just as big thieves as any other profession, including burglars, and when I finally had what I wanted I
invented the chronos computerтАФnot to be confused with the dimensional computerтАФand I stuck it on
poor Blade's head like a ladies hair dryer. For three months I subjected his molecular structure to
moderate heat and intense pressure. And it worked. Now, when Blade's brain is addled by the
computer, for that is as good a word as any, and he is enabled to see and experience a dimension that
we cannot, even though it might be in this very room with us in a spatial sense, his memory molecules will
stand firm. They will even be improved. And as a bonus there is the memory tank. Blade will make no
conscious effort to remember anything, yet he will forget nothing. He will not even know that he has
remembered it. And when he returns from Dimension X I shall simply tap that memory tank and pour the
stuff out of him like wine out of a barrel!"
J smiled. For once Mr. Newton Anthony was looking more impressed than pompous. Before he
could interrupt, Lord Leighton went on: "Now, sir, if we can make that call toDowning Street for final
clearance! I am a very weary old man and I want to go to bed. I must be inLondon early tomorrow."
"I should certainly think we can," said Anthony, and picked up a phone in front of him.
The conversation was brief. Mr. Newton Anthony hung up and nodded to J. "It's on. You may call
your man Blade now."
J picked up the green phone. The Treasury boffin said: "I should like to meet this Richard Blade
before he goes through the computer. I cannot begin to imagine what sort of man he is."
J shook his head sternly. "Very few people can. For the simple reason that thereareno others like
him. But you can't meet him, sir. Strictly against security regulations. Sorry."
He dialed a single digit on the green phone.


Blade had slipped off Zoe's very brief panties and flung them to one side in the tall growing thyme
and heather. By now they were dew sodden.
He put down an old mack, in a small depression along the cliff top that Zoe called "Blade's
Snuggery," and after making love for the first time they lay close together and, by looking down a sort of
winze, could see the Channel. It lay broad and flat, dead calm but for a fleck of lace here and there, and
marred only by the lights of a freighter, far out, beating up to Thamesmouth. Just below them, on a ledge,
gulls stirred and ruffled and dreamed their gull's dreams. The surf was only froth on shingle. The moon
sailed away from them, a silver galleon showing its high stern in disdain.