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

taking the examination at the end of each before proceeding to the next.
Your stylus for marking the examinations is to your right hand."

"Kay, all right," Bert grumbled.

When they said elementary arithmetic, they evidently meant
elementary arithmetic. They started out with one plus one equals two.
Unconsciously, Bert flicked the switch to speed things up. They went
through addition, subtraction, multiplication and division in short order
and before he knew it he was into elementary algebra. It had been a long
time since he had done any algebra. He was surprised how well it came
back to him. Once again, he was able to speed up the lesson. The pages
flicked past. Once or twice in each chapter, and particularly at the tests,
the screen voice brought him up. Once or twice, he asked questions on his
own. The book, he realized, was very well down. Each step was absolutely
clear to him before he went on to the next. It was a flow. He never
hesitated. Trigonometry he had never studied before and was astonished
to find how easily he went through it, amazed that he found himself
speeding up the lessons still once again.

It came as a shock when he reached the end of the hook.

He sat back in his chair and stared, put down the stylus with which he
had been marking the tests.

A voice, a different voice, said, "You have been credited with Math
One."

Bert Alshuler blinked. It came to him, almost like a slap in the face,
that he had completed a course meant to take a semester. He staggered to
his feet, went over to the table on which Professor Marsh had left the two
bottles and picked up the brown one and stared at it.

He looked at his watch and stared again. It was lunch time. It had been
about two hours since Marsh had left. Then he scowled and shook the
wrist chronometer. Something was wrong with it. The second hand was
going very slowly.

He went over to the massive mahogany desk, set in one corner, leaned
over it and dialed the time on the phone screen. The time was exactly the
same as his own wrist chronometer proclaimed. He looked at the watch
again, uncomprehendingly. The second hand was still going at
approximately one quarter or less what he would have thought normal
speed.

Without thinking, he returned to the table and took up the green bottle.
He opened it, shook out a pill and took it. There was still some water in
the glass Professor Marsh had brought him earlier. He finished it, to wash
down the pill. He felt as though in a daze. Nothing made sense. And then
he realized that he felt ravenously hungry. For the first time he explored