"Dick - We Can Remember it For You Wholesale" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dick Phillip K)

The elevator reached the ground floor; a moment later
Quail had joined the mob of peds hurrying along the runnels.
His head ached and he felt sick. But at least he had evaded
death; they had come very close to shooting him on the spot,
back in his own conapt.
And they probably will again, he decided. When they find
me. And with this transmitter inside me, that won't take too
long.
Ironically, he had gotten exactly what he had 'asked Rekal,
Incorporated for. Adventure, peril, Interplan police at work, a
secret and dangerous trip to Mars in which his life was at
stakeeverything he had wanted as a false memory.
The advantages of it being a memoryand nothing more
could now be appreciated.
On a park beach, alone, he sat dully watching a flock of
perts' a semi-bird imported from Mars' two moons, capable
of soaring flight, even against Earth's huge gravity.
Maybe I can find my way back to Mars, he pondered. But
then what? It would be worse on Mars; the political Organiza-
tion whose leader he had assassinated would spot him the
moment he stepped from the ship; he would have Interplan
and them after him, there.
Can you hear me thinking? he wondered. Easy avenue to
paranoia; sitting here alone he felt them tuning in on him,
monitoring, recording, discussing . . . he shivered, rose to his
feet, walked aimlessly, his hands deep in his pockets. No
matter where I go, he realized. You'll always be with me. As
long as I have this device inside my head.
-~ I'll make a deal with you, he thought to himselfand to
them. Can't you imprint a false-memory template on me
again, as you did before, that I lived an average, routine life,
never went to Mars? Never saw an Interplan uniform up close
and never handled a gun?
A voice inside his brain answered, "As has been carefully
explained to you: that would not be enough."
Astonished, he halted.
"We formerly communicated with you in this manner," the
voice continued. "When you were operating in the field, on
Mars. It's been months since we've done it; we assumed, in
fact, that we'd never have to do so again. Where are you?"
"Walking," Quail said, "to my death." By your officers'
guns, he added as an afterthought. "How can you be sure it
wouldn't be enough?" he demanded. "Don't the Rekal tech-
niques work?"
"As we said. If you're given a set of standard, average
memories you getrestless. You'd inevitably seek out Rekal
or one of its competitors again. We can't go through this a
second time."
"Suppose," Quail said, "once my authentic memories have
been cancelled, something more vital than standard memories