"David Brin - Fourth Vacation of George Gustaf" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brin David)

The robo-psychiatrist laughed when he saw Hamilton's expression.
"Oh, you needn't look so stunned, Mr. Smith. You are looking at no madman. I'm
a perfectly modern and productive member of society--a society of which I
approve in most parts. I don't claim any of the privileges once due someone with my
unique genetic heritage. That would be absurd. I'm merely the hereditary head of a
ritual club--perfectly legal. Along with a few thousand others I take pleasure in
maintaining a spiritual link with the past."
Hamilton checked his recorder to make sure it was operating. He couldn't believe
this. "And members of your club, are they also... ?"
"Hereditary? Well, yes, to a degree. Certainly new members are welcome, and the
increase has been rather great of late. But patrilineal families have been our
mainstay... families with names like Hsien, Orange, Stuart, Fujiwara..."
Gustaf spread his hands. "You must try to understand how things were just after
the Amalgamation, Mr. Smith. Neosocialism was not, in those days, the pervasive,
mostly benign set of assumptions it is today, but a powerfully emotional and violent
movement. Among the scapegoats of that era was anyone who claimed distinction
based on heredity or family name... although such things once had their purposes.
"The royal houses had divested themselves of real power long beforehand, so
they weren't scrutinized as much as they might have been. Their withdrawal from
public affairs was generally accomplished with goodwill and careful attention to legal
niceties."
"Fascinating," Hamilton said. "I thought that kings and queens and such were
already gone back in the days of sailing ships and hang gliders."
"Not quite. But they kept a very low profile for survival's sake. I suppose that
reticence has become a habit that's outlived its original purpose."
Hamilton nodded agreeably, but he wasn't fooled for an instant. Dr. Gustaf might
be a thoroughly modern gentleman, but Hamilton had seen that look in Farrell
Cooper's eyes! And the membership was mostly hereditary! How quaint!
Hamilton had to contain his pleasure. He might have stumbled across an actual
tribe! It might be the first tribe found since those--what were they called?--yes,
Marxists--were the talk of all the sociology journals twenty years ago. That pathetic
little group had been secretly maintaining some delusion of world conquest for
centuries. After the initial publicity the members had all moved to different continents
in embarrassment.
 Hamilton smiled and listened as Dr. Gustaf talked on.
But already he was thinking about the abstract for his paper.
He hoped the Bath and Garter would last longer than the Marxists had.


His first article in Amateur Sociologists' Weekly was reprinted as far away as Mars
and Titan. Hamilton was afraid for a time that he would lose control when the
professional sociologists took notice. But with Dan AnMan's help he was able to get
a statistopsychic study ready before anyone else. That did it. They were invited to
do the lead article for the next issue of Popular Sociology.
"That is wonderful news, Hamilton," his android assistant buzzed. "You should
get honorary professional status for this. It is a terrific honor to be granted a second
profession at so young an age."
Hamilton grinned and sat back with his feet up on his desk. In a world that valued
competent eclecticism over anything else, all the vocations guarded their professional
status jealously. Hamilton had himself served on juries of professional bankers,