"Mack Reynolds - Ability Quotient" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reynolds Mack)

"Kay. When do we start?"

The professor looked at his wrist chronometer. "It is still morning. You
have time for an hour or so of instruction before you will wish your
mid-day meal. You can begin as soon as you've had your shots and pills."

Bert looked at him coldly. "What shots and pills?"

The other was fiddling with his fancy briefcase. "When I introduced
myself as Doctor Smith, only one half was inaccurate. I am a doctor, you
know."

"That's fine. But I've never felt better in my life."

The other ignored him and began drawing various medical equipment
from his oversized case. "This has nothing to do with your health," he said.
"We've already checked that out. Your health is excellent. Disgustingly so."

"Well, I figure on letting it stay that way. What shots and pills? This
wasn't in the bargain."

Even as he prepared a hypodermic, the Doctor-Professor, or whatever
he was, said, "According to the information we have on you from the
National Data Banks, Alshuler, you have no medical training. You would
be unable to understand my terminology. Next week, or so, I'll go into it
with you a bit. Meanwhile, will you lower your trousers so that I may
inject this into your hip?"

Bert looked at him in frustration. "If I can't understand it now, why
should I be able to next week? What does it do?"

"Confound it," the other said testily. "You'll find out in due time."
 It was evidently a matter of put up or shut up. It was the time to take
his stand, if he wanted to turn down this whole confusing mess. Damn it,
he had come to this university to cash in on his veteran's rights to a free
education of top quality. Also in the back of his mind was the fact that he
had a free ride for at least eight years. Like many a long-term army man
he was basically lazy. His inclination was to take life easy. It could be
awfully short—you found that out in the military. The thing was, he was
getting more intrigued by the minute. The triple Guaranteed Annual
Income. That wealth beyond dreams of avarice gobbledygook. This suite.
He assumed everything went with it. From food to liquor. He had half a
mind to ask Marsh whether or not he could have a call-girl sent up. That'd
probably shock the puffy old buzzard.

He said, "Kay," and began to unbuckle his belt.

The doctor was a pro. Bert Alshuler didn't even feel the injection.

The other turned and fiddled in his briefcase some more, to emerge