"Frederik Pohl - The Midas Plague" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pohl Frederick)

saw oneand believe me, I saw plentyand we ignore it
because the rules say ignore it. Is that professional? Is
that how to cure a patient?"
Little Blaine said frostily, "If I may say so. Dr. Semmel-
weiss, there have been a great many cures made without
the necessity of departing from the rules. I myself, in
fact"
"You yourself!" mimicked Semmelweiss. "You your-
self never handled a patient alone in your life. When you
going to get out of a group, Blaine?"
Blaine said furiously, "Dr. Fairless, I don't think I have
to stand for this sort of personal attack. Just because
Semmelweiss has seniority and a couple of private patients
one day a week, he thinks"
"Gentlemen," said Fairless mildly. "Please, let's get on
with the work. Mr. Fry has come to us for help, not to
listen to us losing our tempers."
"Sorry," said Semmelweiss curtly. "All the same, I ap-
peal from the arbitrary and mechanistic ruling of the
chair."
Fairless inclined his head. "All in favor of the ruling of
the chair? Nine, I count. That leaves only you opposed,
Dr. Semmelweiss. We'll proceed with the psychodrama,
if the recorder will read us the notes and comments of the
last session.'*
The recorder, a pudgy, low-ranking youngster named
Sprogue, flipped back the pages of his notebook and read
in a chanting voice, "Session of twenty-fourth May, sub-
ject, Morey Fry; in attendance. Doctors Fairless, Bileck,
Semmelweiss, Carrado, Weber"
Fairless interrupted kindly, "Just the last page, if you
please. Dr. Sprogue."
"Umoh, yes. After a ten-minute recess for additional
Rorschachs and an electro-encephalogram, the group con-
vened and conducted rapid-fire word association. Results
were tabulated and compared with standard deviation
patterns, and it was determined that subject's major
traumas derived from, respectively"
Morey found his attention waning. Therapy was good;
everybody knew that, but every once in a while he found
it a little dull. If it weren't for therapy, though, there was
no telling what might happen. Certainly, Morey told him-
self, he had been helped considerablyat least he hadn't
set fire to his house and shrieked at the fire-robots, like
Newell down the block when his eldest daughter divorced
her husband and came back to live with him, bringing her
ration quota along, of course. Morey hadn't even been
tempted to do anything as outrageously, frighteningly im-
moral as destroy things or -waste themwell, he admitted
to himself honestly, perhaps a little tempted, once in a