"Mike Resnick - Hothouse" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

You're the least selfish man I know, says Felicia. Tell me what's bothering
you.

It's just that...well, I always thought that if my charges could speak to me,
they'd tell me how grateful they were, how much my efforts meant to them. I
pause and think about it. Does that make me selfish?

Certainly not, she replies. I think theyought to be grateful. She pats my
hand. A lot of people in that place are just earning salaries; you're there




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because you care.

Anyway, here I've finally got someone whocould thank me, could tell me that
I'm appreciated, and instead he's furious because I'm going to do everything
within my power to keep him alive.

She coos and purrs and making soothing noises, but she doesn't actuallysay
anything, and finally I change the subject and ask her about her garden. A
moment later she is rapturously describing the new buds on theAphelandra
squarrosa, and telling me that she thinks she will have to divide theScilla
sibirica, and I listen gratefully and do not think about Mr. Goldmeier, lying
motionless in his bed and cursing the darkness, until I arrive at work in the
morning. * * * *

Are you feeling any better today? I ask as I approach Mr. Goldmeier's life
station.

No, I'm not feeling better today, he says nastily. God's fresh out of
miracles.

Are you at least adjusting to your new surroundings?

Hell, no.

You will.

I damned well better not!

I stare at him. You're not leaving here.

I know.

Then you might as well get used to the place.

Never!