"Robert Rankin - The Fandom of the Operator" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robert Rankin)

My uncle laughed. `I've heard that too,' said he. `But what do you actually know about death?'

I shook my head in answer to the question. `Nothing,' I said. In truth I knew quite a lot about death. It
was a particular interest of mine. But I had learned early on in my childhood that adults responded
favourably to ignorance in children. They thrived on it. It made them feel superior.

`Whatis death, Uncle Jonny?' I asked.

Uncle `Jonny' pursed his lizard lips. `Now thatis a question,' he said. `And it's one to which no
satisfactory answer really exists. You see, it's all down to definitions. It is generally agreed amongst
members of the medical profession that a subject is dead when they have suffered "brain-stem death".
Which is to say, when all cerebral activity -- that is, brain activity -- has ceased. This is referred to as
clinical death. Although, I am reliably informed, certain techniques exist that are capable of keeping the
body of a dead person "alive" in a hospital by electronically manipulating the heart muscle and pumping
air into the lungs.'

`Why would anyone want to do that?' asked my father.

`I don't know,' said my uncle. `For use in spare-part surgery, I suppose, or possibly for the recreational
activities of some deviant doctor.'

`Go and lather sprouts!' my father told me. `I'll risk you becom-ing a homo.'

`I want to listen,' I said. `Or I'll never learn how to walk upon the ceiling.'

`You know enough,' said my father.

`I don't,' I said. `When is this wake, Uncle Jonny? Can I come to it?'

`No, you can't,' said my daddy.

`It's not really for children,' said my uncle. `The body will be in an open casket. Have you ever seen a
dead corpse, youngGary?'

I had in fact seen several, but I wasn't going to let on. `Never,' saidI.`But I'd like to pay my respects.
I've read most of Mr Penrose's novels.'

`Have you?' asked my father. `I didn't know you could read.'

`Yes, and write too. And do sums.

`That infant school is teaching you well.'

`I'm at the juniors now -- I'm ten years of age -- but P. P. Penrose is my favourite author.'

`Was,'said my father.

`Still is,' saidI.`And I'd like to pay my last respects to him.'

`That's the ticket,' said my uncle.