"Elizabeth Moon. The Speed of Dark " - читать интересную книгу автора

the big picture, get the vision. This company is going places, and it needs
a workforce of unimpaired, productive workers-people who don't need all
these little extras. We're cutting the fat, getting back to the lean,
tough, productive machine..."
Buzzwords, Aldrin thought. The same buzzwords he had fought in the
first place, to get Section A those very perks that made them so
productive. When the profitability of Section A proved him right, senior
management had given in gracefully-he thought. But now they'd put Crenshaw
in. Did they know? Could they not know?
"I know you have an older brother with autism," Crenshaw said, his
voice unctuous. "I feel your pain, but you have to realize that this is the
real world, not nursery school. Your family problems can't be allowed to
make policy."
Aldrin wanted to pick up the water pitcher and smash it-water and ice
cubes and all-onto Crenshaw's head. He knew better. Nothing would convince
Crenshaw that his reasons for championing Section A were far more complex
than having an autistic brother. He had almost refused to work there
because of Jeremy, because of a childhood spent in the shadow of Jeremy's
incoherent rages, the ridicule he'd had from other kids about his "crazy
retard" brother. He'd had more than enough of Jeremy; he'd sworn, when he
left home, that he would avoid any reminders, that he would live among
safe, sane, normal people for the rest of his life.
Now, though, it was the difference between Jeremy (still living in a
group home, spending his days at an adult day-care center, unable to do
more than simple self-care tasks) and the men and women of Section A that
made Aldrin defend them. It was still hard, sometimes, to see what they had
in common with Jeremy and not flinch away. Yet working with them, he felt a
little less guilty about not visiting his parents and Jeremy more than once
a year.
"You're wrong," he said to Crenshaw. "If you try to dismantle Section
A's support apparatus, you will cost this company more in productivity than
you'll gain. We depend on their unique abilities; the search algorithms and
pattern analysis they've developed have cut the time from raw data to
production-that's our edge over the competition-"
"I don't think so. It's your job to keep them productive, Aldrin.
Let's see if you're up to it."
Aldrin choked down his anger. Crenshaw had the self-satisfied smirk of
a man who knew he was in power and enjoyed watching his subordinates
cringe. Aldrin glanced sideways; the others were studiously not looking at
him, hoping that the trouble landing on him would not spread to them.
"Besides," Crenshaw went on. "There's a new study coming out, from a
lab in Europe. It's supposed to be on-line in a day or so. Experimental as
yet, but I understand very promising. Maybe we should suggest that they get
on the protocol for it."
"New treatment?"
"Yeah. I don't know much about it, but I know someone who does and he
knew I was taking over a bunch of autistics. Told me to keep an eye out for
when it went to human trials. It's supposed to fix the fundamental deficit,
make them normal. If they were normal, they wouldn't have an excuse for
those luxuries."