"Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. The Final Circle of Paradise (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

lecture at the university, I dine at the Olympic. And before
returning, I invariably visit the Tavern. True, they don't have
the greenery, nor the tropical birds, and it's a bit stuffy and
warm and smells of smoke, but they have a genuine, inimitable
cuisine. The Assiduous Tasters gather nowhere but there - at
the Gourmet. In that place you do nothing but eat. You can't
talk, you can't laugh, it's totally nonsensical to go there
with a woman - you only eat there! Slowly, thoughtfully..."
Doctor Opir finally ran down, leaned back in his chair,
and inhaled deeply with total enjoyment. I sucked on the mighty
cigar and contemplated the man. I had him well pegged, this
doctor of philosophy. Always and in all times there have been
such men, absolutely pleased with their situation in society
and therefore absolutely satisfied with the condition of that
society. A marvelously well-geared tongue and a lively pen,
magnificent teeth and faultless innards, and a well-employed
sexual apparatus.
"And so the world is beautiful, Doctor?"
"Yes," said the doctor with feeling, "it is finally
beautiful."
"You are a gigantic optimist," said I.
"Our time is the time of optimists. Pessimists go to the
Good Mood Salon, void the gall from their subconscious, and
become optimists. The time of pessimists has passed, just as
the time of tuberculars, of sexual maniacs, and of the military
has passed. Pessimism, as an intellectual emotion, is being
extirpated by that self-same science. And that not indirectly
through the creation of affluence, but concretely by way of
invasion of the dark world of the subcortex. Let's take the
dream generator, currently the most popular diversion of the
masses. It is completely harmless, unusually well adopted to
general use, and is structurally simple. Or consider the
neurostimulators...."
I attempted to steer him into the desired channel.
"Doesn't it seem to you that right there in the
pharmaceutical field science is overdoing it a bit sometimes?"
Doctor Opir smiled condescendingly and sniffed at his
cigar.
"Science has always moved by trial and error," he said
weightily. "And I am inclined to believe that the so-called
errors are always the result of criminal application. We
haven't yet entered the Golden Age, we are just in the process
of doing so, and all kinds of throwbacks, mobsters, and just
plain dirt are under foot. So all kinds of drugs are put out
which are health-destroying, but which are created, as you
know, from the best of motives; all kinds of aromatics ... or
this... well, that doesn't suit a dinner conversation." He
cackled suddenly and obscenely "You can guess my meaning - we
are mature people! What was I saying? Oh yes, all this
shouldn't disturb you. It will pass just like the atom bombs."