"Robert E. Vardeman - Feedback" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vardeman Robert E)

it by absorbing the undisciplined output.
It was like struggling furiously to get a funnel into his mouth and then choking wh
fifty-five-gallon drum was emptied into it. He hated the feeling; he hated commoners; he h
Macmillan most of all for forcing him to do this. Still, this was a better gig than most telep
got, no matter how awful it might be.
He thought, I'm hurting, Kathee, hut I can make it through. Meet after work?
Don't know, too many arrested today. I still have to interrogate witnesses. Serg
Fates might make me work overtime.
Greer sniffed, wiped again at his eyes, and then tried to relax using some of those s
mantras Kathee recommended. It was hell being a telepath, or even a half one
he was. What must it be like for Kathee, able to receive and send? She had to worry a
everyone near ho could pick up her telepathic transmissions, especially if she became an
All he had to worry about was receiving. He was sensitive enough to pry into nontelep
minds through great effort but could shut out the dull roar from those commoners if he go
enough away from their thronging crowds. It helped even more if he got drunk or distra
himself.
When would Macmillan get trained subjects?
Greer moaned again and pressed his hands to his temples. He knew that would n
happen. Most people thought telepaths were something imaginary like Sasquatch and the
no matter how the tabloids tried to cover the story.
"Greer!"
"Yes, sir."
"He verbally said he liked the snack all the way up the liability scale to a nine out of ten
you claim he was thinking that Tofu Tasties were less than, uh, palatable?"
"Shit, sir, he said they were shit."
"Mr. Nakamuri will not be happy. This makes it unanimous on all test subjects this week
"Can I go? I don't feel very well." Greer could not care less what their district man
thought of the survey results.
"I am sure you will feel much better the instant you are out of the office," Macmillan
with a nasty twist in his voice.
"Whatever you say, sir," Greer said. The lacy webs of migraine now thickened and bur
as if a rope net had been set on fire in his head.
But Macmillan was right about one thing. Once he got away from the commoners, he w
feel better.

I think she was in earlier, the man behind the bar thought.
Greer looked around but did not see Kathee. The usual crowd had drifted in, the ones
bored or too damaged by their work to tolerate the outside world much longer. He settle
the high stool and ordered his usual.
 Hey, Greer, called Erickson. Greer thought of him as "numb nuts" after he realized Eric
was his opposite, a transmitter and not a receiver. If there was a more worthless talent, G
could not think of it. At least nontelepaths hired him to spy on each other. What did Eric
do? Implant thoughts? No amount of mental coercion could make anyone like Tofu Tasties.
"What do you want?" Greer asked in an unfriendly tone. His mind raced over all kind
lewd possibilities for Erickson and reveled in knowing the man could not pick
single one. I'm going to a screamer. Want to come? "What the hell is a screamer?" Somet
special, something you'll really like.
Pictures leaked around what little control Erickson had in transmission, enticing Gree
spite of himself. He preferred solitary pleasures but Erickson was excited, and broad
emotions along with the flood of kinky images. Greer knew he ought to keep his distance, b