"Kristine Kathryn Rusch - The Questing Mind" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rusch Kristine Kathryn)

This doctor is a woman in her forties, the age of his granddaughter Kimberly.
The woman is not attractive: middle age has lined her mouth, sagged her breasts,
and flattened her buttocks. She, at least, has compassion. It appears to be what
has wearied her. Since they are alone, she sits across from him in the waiting
room, a file folder clasped to her chest like a shield, and tells him in a
gentle voice that some people become children in their old age.

"I am not a child," he says. "I simply cannot remember my life."

They discuss his symptoms. She agrees that he has no classic symptoms for any
disease which attacks the mind. But she reminds him that no one is classic, and
that even now, no one understands the human brain.

"Except the computer programmers," he says, thinking he is making a joke.
Sitting in this room designed to ease people younger than he is has put him on
edge.

The doctor starts. She has obviously not expected his joke. Finally she smiles.
"I believe the computer people are working on artificial intelligence," she
says.

He is tiring visibly when they finish their discussion. She sends for his
nurse/chauffeur and then touches his hand before she leaves the room. "You are
more fortunate than some, Mr. Brasher," she says, that compassion enveloping him
like a hug. "You at least wrote about your life. Perhaps you knew this time
would come all along."

Her words send a chill through him and he remembers, oh, so briefly remembers
how it felt to be young and whole and in control of his world. "No," he says to
her. "I did not know this would happen, but I was afraid it would."

He sleeps, on and off, for the two days after his excursion, and each time he
awakes, he curses the exhaustion that will not leave him. He wants to think, but
finds it tiring and so he sleeps instead.

On the morning of the third day, he wakes with a restlessness it takes him a
while to identify: it is energy. He has finally regained some of his strength.

And he has an idea. The female doctor's words have echoed through his dreams: he
needs an intelligence specialist. Computer experts have studied the mind for
most of his life. He will have someone make a map of the deterioration of his
brain. He knows just the person to do it.

He picks up the phone beside his bed, hits the speed dial button marked with his
nephew Scott's name, and asks -- no, demands -- that Scott join him for dinner.
Scott's voice holds the tolerance one gives to the eccentric in the family,
tolerance touched with urgency, with the knowledge that he might not have
discussions with his uncle Reed much longer. Brasher recognizes the tone: his
voice has held it too, but for whom and when he cannot remember.