"Herbert, Frank - The Eyes of Heisenberg" - читать интересную книгу автора (Herbert Brian & Frank)

'No exceptions,' Potter said. He sat in Svengaard's chair, put his feet on Svengaard's desk, and brought the little ivory-colored phone box to his stomach with its screen only inches from his face. He punched in Security's number and his own code identification.
Svengaard sat on a corner of the desk across from him, appearing both angry and cowed. They were scanned, I tell you,' he said. They were carrying no unusual devices. There's nothing unusual about them.'
'Except they insist on watching,' Potter said. He jiggled the phone key. 'What's keeping those ignoramuses?'
Svengaard said, 'But the law-'
'Damn the law!' Potter said. 'You know as well as I do that we could route the view signal from the cutting room through an editing computer and show the parents anything we want. Has it ever occurred to you to wonder why we don't do just that?'
'Why... they... ah...' Svengaard shook his head. The question had caught him off balance. Why wasn't that done? The statistics showed a certain number of parents would insist on watching and...
'It was tried,' Potter said. 'Somehow, the parents detected the computer's hand in the tape.' 'How?'
'We don't know.'
'Weren't the parents questioned and...' They killed themselves.' 'Killed them- How?' 'We don't know.' Svengaard tried to swallow in a dry throat. He began to get a picture of intense excitement just under Security's surface. He said, 'What about the statistical ratio of- '
'Statistical, my ass!' Potter said.
A heavy masculine voice came from the phone: 'Who're you talking to?'
Potter focused on the screen, said, 'I was talking to Sven. This viable he called me on-'
'It is a viable?'
'Yes! It's a viable with the full potential, but the parents insist on watching the-'
'I'll have a full crew on the way by tube in ten minutes,' said the voice on the phone. 'They're at Friscopolis. Shouldn't take 'em more than a few minutes.'
Svengaard rubbed wet palms against the sides of his working smock. He couldn't see that face on the phone, but the voice sounded like Max Allgood, T-Security's boss.
'We'll delay the cut until your people get here,' Potter said. 'The records are being faxed to you and should be on your desk in a few minutes. There's another-'
'Is that embryo everything we were told?' asked the man on the phone. 'Any flaws?'
'A latent myxedema, a projective faulty heart valve, but the- '
'Okay, I'll call you after I've seen the-'
'Damn it to hell!' Potter erupted. 'Will you let me get ten words out of my mouth without interrupting?' He glared into the screen. 'There's something here more important than flaw and the parents.' Potter glanced up at Svengaard, back to the screen. 'Sven reports he saw an outside adjustment of the arginine deficiency.'
A low whistle came from the phone, then, 'Reliable?'
'Depend on it.'
'Did it follow the pattern of the other eight?'
Potter glanced up at Svengaard, who nodded.
'Sven says yes.'
'They won't like that.'
'I don't like it.'
'Did Sven see enough to get any... new ideas on it?'
Svengaard shook his head.
'No,' Potter said.
'There's a strong possibility it isn't significant,' the man on the phone said. 'In a system of increasing determinism- '
'Oh, yes,' Potter sneered. 'In a system of increasing determinism you get more and more indeterminism. You might as well say in a foofram of increasing haggers-maggle- '
'Well, it's what they believe.'
'So they say. I believe Nature doesn't like being meddled with.'
Potter stared into the screen. For some reason, he recalled his youth, the beginning of his medical studies and the day he'd learned how very close his genotype had been to the Optiman. He found that the old core of hatred had become mildly amused tolerance and cynicism.
'I don't see why they put up with you,' the man on the phone said.
'Because I was very close,' Potter whispered. He wondered then how close the Durant embryo would be. I'll do my best, he thought.
The man on the phone cleared his throat, said, 'Yes, well I'll depend on you to handle things at your end. The embryo ought to provide some verification of the outside inter- '
'Don't be a total ass!' Potter snapped. The emb will bear out Sven's report to the last enzyme. You tend to your job; we'll do ours.' He slapped the cut-off, pushed the phone back onto the desk and sat staring at it. Pompous damned... no - he's what he is because he's what he is. Comes from living too close to them. Comes from the original cut. Maybe I'd be an ass too if that's what I had to be.'
Svengaard tried to swallow in a dry throat. He'd never before heard such an argument or such frank talk from the men who operated out of Central.
'Shocked you, eh, Sven?' Potter asked. He dropped his feet to the floor.
Svengaard shrugged. He felt ill-at-ease.
Potter studied the man. Svengaard was good within his limits, but he lacked creative imagination. A brilliant surgeon, but without that special quality he was often a dull tool.
'You're a good man, Sven,' Potter said. 'Dependable. That's what your record says, you know. Dependable. You'll never be anything else. Weren't meant to be. In your particular niche, though, you're it.'
Svengaard heard only the praise, said, 'It's good to be appreciated, of course, but- '
'But we have work to do.'
'It will be difficult,' Svengaard said. 'Now.'
'Do you think that outside adjustment was an accidental thing?' Potter asked.
'I - I'd like to believe that' - Svengaard wet his lips with his tongue - it wasn't determined, that no agency...'