"Morrison, William - Bedside Manner v1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morrison William)

"I know. That's why I didn't want him to change my looks."
Again silence.
She said, "Fred?"
"I'm still here."
"Have you talked to him about it?"
"He's talked to me. He's told me about your being worried."
"Don't you think it matters?"
"Yes, I suppose it does. He told me he could do a good technical jobЧleave us with regular features and unblemished skins."
"That isn't what I want," she said fiercely. "I don't want the kind of regular features that come out of physiology books. I want my own features. I don't care so much about the voice, but I want my own face back!"
"That's a lot to ask for. Hasn't he done enough for us?"
"No. Nothing counts unless I have that. DoЧdo you think that I'm being silly?"
"WellЧ"
"I don't want to be beautiful, because I know you don't want me to be."
He sounded amazed. "Whoever told you that?"
"Do you think that after living with you for two years, I don't know? If you had wanted a beautiful wife, you'd have married one. Instead, you chose me. You wanted to be the good-looking one of the family. You're vain, Fred. Don't try to deny it, because it would be no use. You're vain. Not that I mind it, but you are."
"Are you feeling all right, Margaret? You soundЧoverwrought."
"I'm not. I'm being very logical. If I were either ugly or beautiful, you'd hate me. If I were ugly, people would pity you, and you wouldn't be able to stand that. And if I were beautiful, they might forget about you. I'm just plain enough for them to wonder why you ever married anyone so ordinary. I'm just the kind of person to supply background for you."
After a moment he said slowly, "I never knew you had ideas like that about me. They're silly ideas. I married you because I loved you."
"Maybe you did. But why did you love me?"
He said patiently, "Let's not go into that. The fact is, Margaret, that you're talking nonsense. I don't give a damn whether you're ugly or beautifulЧwell, no, that isn't strictly true. I do careЧbut looks aren't the most important thing. They have very little to do with the way I feel about you.
I love you for the kind of person you are. Everything else is secondary."
"Please, Fred, don't lie to me. I want to be the same as before, because I know that's the way you want me. Isn't there some way to let the Doctor know what sort of appearance we made? You haveЧhadЧa good eye. Maybe you could describe usЧ"
"Be reasonable, Margaret. You ought to know that you can't tell anything from a description." His voice was almost pleading. "Let's leave well enough alone. I don't care if your features do come out of the pictures in a physiology textbookЧ"
"Fred!" she said excitedly. "That's it! Pictures! Remember that stereo shot we had taken just before we left Mars? It must be somewhere on the shipЧ"
"But the ship was crushed, darling. It's a total wreck."
"Not completely. If they could take us out alive, there must have been some unhurt portions left. Maybe the stereo is still there!"
"Margaret, you're asking the impossible. We don't know where the ship is. This group the Doctor is with is on a scouting expedition. The wreck of our ship may have been left far behind. They're not going to retrace their tracks just to find it."
"But it's the only way . . . the only way! There's nothing elseЧ"
She broke down. If she had possessed eyes, she would have weptЧbut as it was, she could weep only internally.
They must have taken him away, for there was no answer to her tearless sobbing. And after a time, she felt suddenly that there was nothing to cry about. She felt, in fact, gay and cheerfulЧand the thought struck her: The Doctor's given me another drug. He doesn't want me to cry. Very well, I won't. I'll think of things to make me happy, I'll bubble over with good spirits.
Instead, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

When she awoke again, she thought of the conversation with Fred, and the feeling of desperation returned. I'll have to tell the Doctor all about it, she thought. I'll have to see what he can do. I know it's asking an awful lot, but without it, all the rest he has done for me won't count. Better to be dead than be different from what I was.
But it wasn't necessary to tell the Doctor. Fred had spoken to him first.
So Fred admits it's important too. He won't be able to deny any longer that I judged him correctly.
The Doctor said, "What you are asking is impossible."
"Impossible? You won't even try?"
"My dear patient, the wrecked ship is hundreds of millions of miles behind us. The expedition has its appointed task. It cannot retrace its steps. It cannot waste time searching the emptiness of space for a stereo which may not even exist any longer."
"Yes, you're right . . . I'm sorry I asked, Doctor."
He read either her mind or the hopelessness in her voice. He said, "Do not make any rash plans. You cannot carry them out, you know."
"I'll find a way. Sooner or later I'll find a way to do something to myself."
"You are being very foolish. I cannot cease to marvel at how foolish you are. Are many human beings like you, psychologically?"
"I don't know, Doctor. I don't care. I know only what's important to me!"
"But to make such a fuss about the merest trifle! The difference in appearance between one human being and another of the same sex, so far as we can see, is insignificant. You must learn to regard it in its true light."
"You think it's insignificant because you don't know anything about men and women. To Fred and me, it's the difference between life and death."
He said in exasperation, "You are a race of children. But sometimes even a child must be humored. I shall see what I can do."
But what could he do? she asked herself. The ship was a derelict in space, and in it, floating between the stars, was the stereo he wouldn't make an attempt to find. Would he try to get a description from Fred? Even the best human artist couldn't produce much of a likeness from a mere verbal description. What could someone like the Doctor doЧsomeone to whom all men looked alike, and all women?

As she lay there, thinking and wondering, she had only the vaguest idea of the passage of time. But slowly, as what must have been day followed day, she became aware of strange tingling sensations all over her body. The pains she had felt at first had slowly diminished and then vanished altogether. What she felt now was not pain at all. It was even mildly pleasant, as if some one were gently massaging her body, stretching her muscles, tugging at her.
Suddenly she realized what it was: New limbs were growing. Her internal organs must have developed properly, and now the Doctor had gone ahead with the rest of his treatment.