"Kate Wilhelm - Baby, You Were Great" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilhelm Kate)

something worth stealing." He chuckled, a low throaty sound that was without mirth. "Among other
things, that is. They want to be roughed up once or twice, and forced to kneel тАж Our new psychologist
is pretty good, you know? Hasn't steered us wrong yet. Anne might kick some, but it'll go over great."

"She won't stand for an actual robbery." Louder, emphasizing it, he added, "I won't stand for that."

"We can dub it," Herb said. "That's all we need, Johnny, plant the idea, and then dub the rest."

John stared at his back. He wanted to believe that. He needed to believe it. His voice showed no trace of
emotion when he said, "It didn't start like this, Herb. What happened?"

Herb turned then. His face was dark against the glare of light behind him. "Okay, Johnny, it didn't start
like this. Things accelerate, that's all. You thought of a gimmick, and the way we planned it, it sounded
great, but it didn't last. We gave them the feeling of gambling, of learning to ski, of automobile racing,
everything we could dream of, and it wasn't enough. How many times can you take the first ski jump of
your life? After a while you want new thrills, you know? For you it's been great, hasn't it? You bought
yourself a shining new lab and pulled the cover over you and it. You bought yourself time and
equipment, and when things didn't go right you could toss it out and start over, and nobody gave a damn.
Think of what it's been like for me, kid! I gotta keep coming up with something new, something that'll
give Anne a jolt and, through her, all those nice little people who aren't even alive unless they're plugged
in. You think it's been easy? Anne was a green kid. For her everything was new and exciting, but it isn't
like that now, boy. You better believe it is not like that now. You know what she told me last month?
She's sick and tired of men. Our little hot-box Annie! Tired of men!"

John crossed to him and pulled him around. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why, Johnny? What would you have done that I didn't do? I looked harder for the right guy for her.
What would you do for a new thrill for her? I worked for them, kid. Right from the start you said for me
to leave you alone. Okay. I left you alone. You ever read any of the memos I sent? You initialed them,
kiddo. Everything that's been done, we both signed. Don't give me any of that why-didn't-I-tell-you
stuff. It won't work!" His face was ugly red and a vein bulged in his neck. John wondered if he had high
blood pressure, if he would die of a stroke during one of his flash rages.

John left him at the window. He had read the memos. Herb knew he had. Herb was right; all he had
wanted was to be left alone. It had been his idea; after twelve years of work in a laboratory on prototypes
he had shown his тАж gimmick тАж to Herb Javits. Herb was one of the biggest producers on television
then; now he was the biggest producer in the world.

The gimmick was fairly simple. A person fitted with electrodes in his brain could transmit his emotions,

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which in turn could be broadcast and picked up by the helmets to be felt by the audience. No words or
thoughts went out, only basic emotions тАж fear, love, anger, hatred тАж that, tied in with a camera
showing what the person saw, with a voice dubbed in, and you were the person having the experience,
with one important difference, you could turn it off if it got to be too much. The "actor" couldn't. A
simple gimmick. You didn't really need the camera and the soundtrack; many users never turned them
on at all, but let their own imagination fill in to fit the emotional broadcast.