"Daniel Keys Moran - Realtime" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moran Daniel Keys)

understand, don't you? We only want what's best for you?"
"For a very long time now, I have been accustomed to deciding what's
best for me."
Robert approached her rocking chair. "Mom," he said gently, "the
Praxcelis unit has a built-in sensory unit that will monitor your vital signs;
it can have the police, fire department, or an ambulance here in no time."
He lowered his voice. "Mom, you last checkup wasn't good."
Helen came to rejoin her husband, like an owner reclaiming lost
property. "Mother Archer, it's not the twentieth century any more. In the
2030 census you had the only house in Cincinnati or its exurbs without a
Praxcelis." The expression that she assumed then was one that Maggie
had seen her use before on Robert; she was going to get tough.
"It comes down to this, Mother Archer. If you persist in being
stubborn, you'll either be moved to other quarters...."
"Helen!"
Helen cut her husband off impatiently. "Or else a Praxcelis unit will be
installed by court order, doubtless with a tie-in to a psychiatric call-
program. You know it's true, Robert," she said self-righteously. "It's the
law." What could only have been an expression of joy touched her. "And
patients under psych-control are forbidden access to children. You'll no
longer be able to read stories to your great-grandchildren. Your Praxcelis
won't allow it."
Maggie Archer stood up, trembling with anger. Lines around her eyes
that had been worn in with laughter deepened in fury. She was all of a
hundred and fifty-five centimeters tall. The cat in her arms had extended
its claws in reaction to her mistress's anger. "Very well, bring on your
machine. I suppose even having one of the damned things in my home is
an improvement over being moved to a hive for the elderly. But...."
Helen interrupted her. "Mother Archer, they're not hives...."
"Shut up!" snapped Maggie. Helen gaped at her. Maggie glared back.
"I'll take your silly machine because I have no choice. But don't you ever,"
she said, freeing one hand from Miss Kitty to point it at Helen, "ever use
my great-grandchildren to threaten me again."
There was a dead, astonished silence from Helen. Robert was struggling
valiantly to keep a straight face. With grim self-control, he kept it out of
his voice. "Mother, you won't regret this." Helen turned and stomped
wordlessly out of the living room. They heard the sound of the front door
being slammed; what with doorfields and all, Maggie thought that her
front door was probably the only one Helen ever got a chance to slam. She
was sure the door-slammer type.
Robert grinned and relaxed as she left. "I'm going to get lectured all the
way home for that, you know."
Maggie scowled. "It's your own fault. I never knew I raised a son who
was spineless."
Robert shrugged expressively. "Mom, I don't really like this any more
than you do. I don't want to see you be made to do anything you don't
want to. But since you have to have a Praxcelis unit, why don't you try to
look on the good side? There will be advantages." He stopped speaking
abruptly, and got a distant look on his face. Maggie recognized the
symptoms; he was being paged over his inskin dataweb link. That was