"Weiner-PurplePill" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weiner Andrew)

Dr. Graves opened the drawer of his desk. He produced a container of purple
pills. "These are new on the market. A really excellent anti-psychotic. I happen
to have a sample you can take with you right now, and I'll write you a
prescription for more."

Conway took the container and stared at it dubiously. "These pills will stop the
delusions?"

"Stop them cold. Take one every morning and evening. If you feel another episode
coming on, take another. They'll bring you back to Earth in a hurry."

ELEVEN

Conway leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms. The layout was finished,
and it looked great. He felt tired, but it was a good tired.

Since being appointed head of the newly combined art group, Conway's
productivity had been on an upward swing. After struggling for so long with
limited resources, it was a relief to have a full department again. And although
the work load had increased, too, it was simply a matter of working smarter.
Turner Woodley had been a notoriously poor manager, and his former assistants
had responded enthusiastically to Conway's new leadership.

It was too bad about Turner, of course. He really should call him up and take
him out for lunch. And when the economy picked up, he would be able to throw a
few freelance assignments his way.

Actually, from his point of view, the economy was already picking up. Jackman
had come through for him, swinging him a raise to accompany his new
responsibilities. Not a lot of money, but enough to fix the station wagon and
cover Melanie's school fees. Also, Alice had survived yet another round of
cutbacks at her job. So things were looking up.

But the best news of all was the end of the dreams. Since he started taking the
purple pills, he had stayed firmly rooted in the here-and-now. No more sleep
capsules or dream-machines or echoing starship walls or tattooed ladies . . .

He felt a sudden, unexpected pang, thinking about Harper. She had seemed so
real. It had all seemed real, at least while it was happening, but Harper most
of all. He almost missed her. Almost.

"Conway."

He looked around him, wondering who it was. He had thought that everyone else
had gone home hours ago. He could see no one in the room.

"Conway," the voice again, naggingly familiar.

He robbed his eyes, but still could see no one.