"Lawrence Watt-Evans - The Spartacus File" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

most practical course of action—theonly practical course of action, really—will be to send you in for a
full course of imprinting in the use of the new software."
 For a moment that didn't register; then the words sank in. Oh, God, Casper thought, neuro-imprinting
was supposed to hurt like hell. He pressed down into his chair; he hated pain.

At least this meant he still had his job, though. He wouldn't have to join the unemployed and homeless,
living in the streets. He'd still have both kidneys.

"I suppose it's for the best,” he said, his voice thin and weak.

"We think so,” Quinones said. Once again, he produced his artificial smile, this time a variant that was
probably meant to be comforting and paternal. “And, Casper,” he added, “you won't be the only one.
We've made arrangements with NeuroTalents LLC for a group discount. We'll be having quite a few
people imprinted."

"And I gotlucky enough to be sent off first?” Casper asked.

Quinones nodded, deaf to the feeble sarcasm. “The work schedule decided it. You're the most available
at the moment."

Casper remembered the list of jobs he had found on his screen when he had arrived at the office half an
hour before, and he wondered what his co-workers were faced with if that schedule left him “most
available.” He made no comment on that; he just nodded and asked, “When do I go?"

"You'll see Dr. Jalali this afternoon for a physical. Assuming she doesn't find anything that would keep
you from going, you're scheduled for tomorrow morning at ten."

Casper suppressed a shudder. “I suppose it's well to get it over with quickly,” he said, trying
unsuccessfully to force a smile.

Quinones nodded again. “And you'll need a day or two for the new information to settle in,” he said
blithely. Casper shuddered, and his discomfort with the idea finally seemed to register with his superior.
“Don't worry about the imprinting,” Quinones told him, with another falsely paternal smile. “Those
problems they had in the early days have all been taken care of. You'll be fine."

Casper nodded. “I'm not worried about that,” he lied. He was quite sure Quinones had never been
imprinted, and never would be if he could help it. The bosses didn't need to worry about such things. The
Consortium took care of its managers, and the Democratic-Republican Party took care of the
Consortium.

Anyone who wasn't in the Consortium or the Party, though, was on his own.

"Good,” Quinones said. He closed the folder. “And Casper, don't worry about coming in to work
tomorrow, either. Just go straight over to NeuroTalents in the morning, and relax afterwards.” He smiled
beneficently, as if he had just conferred a great favor.

The smug bastard probably thought he had, Casper told himself. Aloud, he said, “Thank you. That will
be nice."

Then Casper slipped out of the office and wove his way back across the big room to his own little niche,