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

You never heard an inmate speak before?

Not that I remember.

Which is another unhappy truth. By age 100, one out of every two people has
some form of senile dementia. By 125, it's four out of five. By 150, it's 99
out of 100. Mr. Goldmeier is 153 years old; the odds against his retaining
anything close to normal mental capacities are better than 100 to one.

I should add, I say, that the proper term is charge', not patient and
certainly not inmate'.

A zombie by any other name...

I decide there is no sense arguing with him. How do you feel? I ask.

Look at me, he says disgustedly. How wouldyou feel?




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If you're in any discomfort... I begin.

I told you: this place stinks. It reeks of shit and urine.

Some of our charges are incontinent, I explain. We have to show them
understanding and compassion.

Why? he rasps. What do they show us in exchange?

Try to be a little more tolerant, I say.

Youtry! he snaps. I'm busy!

I can't help but ask: Busy doing what?

Hanging on to reality!

I smile. Is that so difficult?

Why don't you ask some of your other inmates? He sniffs the air and makes a
face. Goddamnit! Another one's crapping all over himself! What the hell am I
doing here anyway? I'm not a fucking vegetable yet!

I check all the notations on the screen.

You're here, Mr. Goldmeier, I say, not without some satisfaction at what I'm
about to tell him, because no other ward will have you. You've offended every
attendant and orderly in the entire complex.