"Dick, Philip K - Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dick Phillip K)

gauges remained inert, and he said to himself, An android response. Failing to detect the
major element, the dead animal pelt. Her — its — mind is concentrating on other factors.
"Your husband hangs the picture up on the wall of his study," he finished, and this time the
needles moved.
"I certainly wouldn't let him," Rachael said.
"Okay," he said, nodding. "Now consider this. You're reading a novel written in the old
days before the war. The characters are visiting Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco. They
become hungry and enter a seafood restaurant. One of them orders lobster, and the chef
drops the lobster into the tub of boiling water while the characters watch."
"Oh god," Rachael said. "That's awful! Did they really do that? It's depraved! You mean a
live lobster?" The gauges, however, did not respond. Formally, a correct response. But
simulated.
"You rent a mountain cabin," he said, "in an area still verdant. It's rustic knotty pine with a
huge fireplace."
"Yes," Rachael said, nodding impatiently.
"On the walls someone has hung old maps, Currier and Ives prints, and above the
fireplace a deer's head has been mounted, a full stag with developed horns. The people with
you admire the decor of the cabin and you all decide — "
"Not with the deer head," Rachael said. The gauges, however, showed an amplitude
within the green only.
"You become pregnant," Rick continued, "by a man who has promised to marry you. The
man goes off with another woman, your best friend; you get an abortion and — "
"I would never get an abortion," Rachael said. "Anyhow you can't. It's a life sentence and
the police are always watching." This time both needles swung violently into the red.
"How do you know that?" Rick asked her, curiously. "About the difficulty of obtaining an
abortion?"
"Everybody knows that," Rachael answered.
"It sounded like you spoke from personal experience."' He watched the needles intently;
they still swept out a wide path across the dials. "One more. You're dating a man and he
asks you to visit his apartment. While you're there he offers you a drink. As you stand holding
your glass you see into the bedroom; it's attractively decorated with bullfight posters, and you
wander in to look closer. He follows after you, closing the door. Putting his arm around you,
he says — "
Rachael interrupted, "What's a bullfight poster?"
"Drawings, usually in color and very large, showing a matador with his cape, a bull trying to
gore him." He was puzzled. "How old are you?" he asked; that might be a factor.
"I'm eighteen," Rachael said. "Okay; so this man closes the door and puts his arm around
me. What does he say?"
Rick said, "Do you know how bullfights ended;"
"I suppose somebody got hurt."
"The bull at the end, was always killed." He waited, watching the two needles. They
palpitated restlessly, nothing more. No real reading at all. "A final question," he said. "Two-
part. You are watching an old movie on TV, a movie from before the war. It shows a banquet
in progress; the guests are enjoying raw oysters."
"Ugh," Rachael said; the needles swung swiftly.
"The entree," he continued, "consists of boiled dog, stuffed with rice." The needles moved
less this time, less than they had for the raw oysters. "Are raw oysters more acceptable to
you than a dish of boiled dog? Evidently not." He put his pencil down, shut off the beam of
light, removed the adhesive patch from her check. "You're an android," he said. "That's the
conclusion of the testing," he informed her — or rather it — and Eldon Rosen, who regarded