"Kevin O'Donnel Jr. - The Journeys of McGill Feighan 01 - Caverns" - читать интересную книгу автора (O'Donnell Jr Kevin)

Before departure, in accord with the instructions of the Far Being, it
established a $10,000,000 (US) trust fund, the interest on which was to be
applied to expenses incurred by the Feighan family in attempting to cope
with the trauma they had undoubtedly suffered. That pleased it. It wouldn't
want to think that its master was unfeeling.
Then, properly shrunk, it staggered to the Fling Booth. Its sole regret as it
left the Earth was that it hadn't had time to go wandering through the
wilderness.


The hospital staff reclaimed the baby from its distraught parents and
quarantined it at once. They felt they had to: the child did not move. Initial
tests suggested that his paralysis, if it were such, was not of physical origin.
They imputed it to hysteria.
Medical experts from the world over descended upon Cleveland in such
droves that car rental agencies ran out of luxury models, hotel rooms were
as available as free consultations (desk clerks willing to relinquish the
reserved suites obtained all the medical advice they needed, gratis), and half
a dozen country clubs canceled guest privileges because their own members
couldn't get onto the courses.
 Each doctor had his own theory, and his optimum means of proving it.
Some wanted blood samples; others, bone fragments. Some yearned to scan,
others to skin. Biopsies were demanded a hundred times an hour. The baby
(now named McGill no-middle-name Feighan) had his fingers pricked so
often that he couldn't have sucked his thumb even if he could have moved
it to his mouth.
The researchers requested so much material from McGill that a hospital
intern, not entirely facetiously, suggested that they sacrifice and quick-freeze
him, then take as many cross-sections as possible. It was a sign of scientific
frenzy that the motion was voted down 1307-1211тАж
The psychologists and psychiatrists, there to cure his hysteria, fought for
their share of experimentation. Roughly half wanted to put him in an
isolation cell and observe him till he reached puberty; the others opted for
the age of twenty-one.
Six weeks after the alien had left, Patrick Sean Feighan, the baby's
almost-forgotten father, stormed into the hospital, raving that he'd have his
son or the heads of those who got in his way. A bull of a man, an erstwhile
professional football player who worked out regularly and whose shoulders
were so broad he had to go through most doors sideways, he got attention.
"Mr. Feighan," said the receptionist, "I'm afraid the doctor's in conference
right now, if you'll take a seatтАФ"
"I'll just pop in, won't be a minute, it's the release, you know, it must be
signed." Pulling a cookie from his pocketтАФ snacks helped him copeтАФhe
headed for the varnished oak door.
The nurse shrugged to herself, and pressed the disguised button that
activated the door's electro-lock. "Mr. Feighan," she said, swiveling her chair
around, "really, the doctor is very busy, and he'll see you as soonтАФ"
"He'll see me now," bit off Feighan, "orтАФ hunh. Locked, is it? Well now,
what can weтАФ" He wrapped his fingers around the handle and pressed his
shoulder to the wood. "тАФdo about that, I wonder?" Grunting, he heaved