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

you are mistaken, Mr. Quail. You were here discussing the
feasibility of an extrafactual trip for you, but" She
shrugged her smooth pale shoulders. "As I understand it, no
trip was taken."
Quail said, "I remember everything, miss. My letter to
Rekal, Incorporated, which started this whole business off. I
remember my arrival here, my visit with Mr. McClane. Then
the two lab technicians taking me in tow and administering a
drug to put me out." No wonder the firm had returned half
his fee. The false memory of his "trip to Mars" hadn't taken
at least not entirely, not as he had been assured.
"Mr. Quail," the girl said, "although you are a minor clerk
you are a good-looking man and it spoils your features to
become angry. If it would make you feel any better, I might,
ahem, let you take me out . . ."
He felt furious, then. "I remember you," he said savagely.
"For instance the fact that your breasts are sprayed blue; that
stuck in my mind. And I remember Mr. McClane's promise
that if I remembered my visit to Rekal, Incorporated I'd
receive my money back in full. Where is Mr. McClane?"
After a delayprobably as long as they could managehe
found himself once more seated facing the imposing walnut
desk, exactly as he had been an hour or so earlier in the day.
"Some technique you have," Quail said sardonically. His
disappointmentand resentmentwere enormous, by now.
"My so-called 'memory' of a trip to Mars as an undercover
agent for Interplan is hazy and vague and shot full of
contradictions. And I clearly remember my dealings here with
you people. I ought to take this to the Better Business Bureau."
He was burning angry, at this point; his sense of being
cheated had overwhelmed him, had destroyed his customary
aversion to participating in a public squabble.
Looking morose, as well as cautious, McClane said, "We
capitulate. Quail. We'll refund the balance of your fee. I fully
concede the fact that we did absolutely nothing for you." His
tone was resigned.
Quail said accusingly, "You didn't even provide me with
the various artifacts that you claimed would 'prove' to me I
had been on Mars. All that song-and-dance you went intoit
hasn't materialized into a damn thing. Not even a tick-et stub.
Nor postcards. Nor passport. Nor proof of immunization
shots. Nor"
"Listen, Quail," McClane said. "Suppose I told you" He
broke off. "Let it go." He pressed a button on his intercom.
"Shirley, will you disburse five hundred and seventy more
'creds in the form of a cashier's check made out to Douglas
Quail? Thank you." He released the button, then glared at
Quail.
Presently the check appeared; the receptionist placed it
before McClane and once more vanished out of sight, leaving