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

His emaciated face contracts in a look of disgust. Why in hell should you want
to be my friend?

I want to be friends with all my charges.

"Them?"he says contemptuously, scanning the room. You'd probably get more
action from a bunch of potted plants. It's not dissimilar from what Felicia
says on occasion.

Look, I say. You're going to be here for a very long time. So am I. Why don't
we at least try to cultivate the illusion of civility?

That's a disgusting thought.

Being civil? I ask, wondering what kind of creature they have delivered to my
ward.

That too, he says. But I meant being here for a very long time. He exhales
deeply, and I hear a rattling in his chest and make a mental note to tell the
doctors about his congestion. Then he adds: Beinganywhere for a very long
time.

What makes you so bitter? I ask.

I've seen terrible things, things no man should ever have to see.

We've had our share, I agree. The war with Brazil. The meteor that hit
Mozambique. The revolution in Canada.

Fool! he snaps. Those werediversions.

Diversions? I repeat incredulously. Just what hellholes have you been to?

The worst, he answers. I've been to places where men begged for death, and
slowly went mad when it didn't come.

I don't remember reading or hearing about anything like that, I say. Where was
this?

He stares unblinking at me for a long moment before he answers. Right here, in
the wards. * * * *

Felicia looks up from her plate. His name's Bernard Goldmeier? she says.

That's right.




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