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The Stars My Destination ( Tiger! Tiger! ) :: Bester Alfred
Страница: 40 из 164AS:1z8/i 27 :006. But that's me. That's…”
«It is not you. This is you.» Dr. Regan waved at the interesting offices they could see through the transparent glass wall.
«You can only recapture the true memory if you discharge the old. All this glorious reality is yours, if we can help you discard the dream of the spaceman.» Dr. Regan leaned forward, his polished spectacles glittering hypnotically. «Reconstruct this false memory of yours in detail, and I will tear it down. Where do you imagine you left the spaceship 'Nomad'? How did you escape? Where do you imagine the 'Nomad' is now?»
Foyle wavered before the romantic glamour of the scene which seemed to be just within his grasp.
«It seems to me I left 'Nomad' out in…” He stopped short.
A devil-face peered at him from the highlights reflected in Dr. Regan's spectacles . . . a hideous tiger mask with NOMAD blazoned across the distorted brow. Foyle stood up.
«Liars!» he growled. «It's real, me. This here is phoney. What happened to me is real. I'm real, me.»
Saul Dagenham walked into the laboratory. «All right,» he called. «Strike. It's a washout.»
The bustling scene in laboratory, office, and studio ended. The actors quietly disappeared without another glance at Foyle. Dagenham gave Foyle his deadly smile. «Tough, aren't you? You're really unique. My name is Saul Dagenham. We've got five minutes for a talk. Come into the garden.»
The Sedative Garden atop the Therapy Building was a triumph of therapeutic planning. Every perspective, every color, every contour had been designed to placate hostility, soothe resistance, melt anger, evaporate hysteria, absorb melancholia and depression.
«Sit down,» Dagenham said, pointing to a bench alongside a pool in which crystal waters tinkled. «Don't try to jaunte-you're drugged. I'll have to walk around a bit. Can't come too close to you. I'm 'hot.' D'you know what that means?»
Foyle shook his head sullenly. Dagenham cupped both hands around the flaming blossom of an orchid and held them there for a moment. «Watch that flower,» he said. «You'll see.»
He paced up a path and turned suddenly. «You're right, of course. Everything that happened to you is real…Only what did happen?»
«Go to hell,» Foyle growled.
«You know, Foyle, I admire you.»
«Go to hell.»
«In your own primitive way you've got ingenuity and guts. You're cr0Magnon, Foyle. I've been checking on you.
«It is not you. This is you.» Dr. Regan waved at the interesting offices they could see through the transparent glass wall.
«You can only recapture the true memory if you discharge the old. All this glorious reality is yours, if we can help you discard the dream of the spaceman.» Dr. Regan leaned forward, his polished spectacles glittering hypnotically. «Reconstruct this false memory of yours in detail, and I will tear it down. Where do you imagine you left the spaceship 'Nomad'? How did you escape? Where do you imagine the 'Nomad' is now?»
Foyle wavered before the romantic glamour of the scene which seemed to be just within his grasp.
«It seems to me I left 'Nomad' out in…” He stopped short.
A devil-face peered at him from the highlights reflected in Dr. Regan's spectacles . . . a hideous tiger mask with NOMAD blazoned across the distorted brow. Foyle stood up.
«Liars!» he growled. «It's real, me. This here is phoney. What happened to me is real. I'm real, me.»
Saul Dagenham walked into the laboratory. «All right,» he called. «Strike. It's a washout.»
The bustling scene in laboratory, office, and studio ended. The actors quietly disappeared without another glance at Foyle. Dagenham gave Foyle his deadly smile. «Tough, aren't you? You're really unique. My name is Saul Dagenham. We've got five minutes for a talk. Come into the garden.»
The Sedative Garden atop the Therapy Building was a triumph of therapeutic planning. Every perspective, every color, every contour had been designed to placate hostility, soothe resistance, melt anger, evaporate hysteria, absorb melancholia and depression.
«Sit down,» Dagenham said, pointing to a bench alongside a pool in which crystal waters tinkled. «Don't try to jaunte-you're drugged. I'll have to walk around a bit. Can't come too close to you. I'm 'hot.' D'you know what that means?»
Foyle shook his head sullenly. Dagenham cupped both hands around the flaming blossom of an orchid and held them there for a moment. «Watch that flower,» he said. «You'll see.»
He paced up a path and turned suddenly. «You're right, of course. Everything that happened to you is real…Only what did happen?»
«Go to hell,» Foyle growled.
«You know, Foyle, I admire you.»
«Go to hell.»
«In your own primitive way you've got ingenuity and guts. You're cr0Magnon, Foyle. I've been checking on you.