[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Haldersen sighed. He knew better than to argue with a
robot. "Where are those three gentlemen right now?"
"They are occupied, sir. As you may know, there is a med-
ical emergency in the city this morning, and Dr. Bryce and
Dr. Kamakura are helping to organize the committee of pub-
lic safety. Dr. Reynolds did not report for duty today and we
are unable to trace him. It is believed that he is a victim of
the current difficulty."
"What current difficulty?"
"Mass loss of memory on the part of the human popula-
tion," the robot said.
"An epidemic of amnesia?"
"That is one interpretation of the problem."
"How can such a thing " Haldersen stopped. He under-
stood now the source of his own joy this morning. Only yes-
terday afternoon he had discussed with Tim Bryce the ap-
plication of memory-destroying drugs to his own trauma, and
Bryce had said
Haldersen no longer knew the nature of his own trauma,
"Wait," he said, as the robot began to leave the room. "I
need information. Why have I been under treatment here?"
"You have been suffering from social displacements and
dysfunctions whose origin, Dr. Bryce feels, lies in a situation
of traumatic personal loss."
"Loss of what?"
"Your family, Dr. Haldersen."
"Yes. That's right. I recall, now I had a wife and two
children. Emily. And a fittle girt Margaret, Elizabeth,
something like that. And a boy named John. What happened
to them?"
"They were passengers aboard Intercontinental Airways
Flight 103, Copenhagen to San Francisco, September 5,1991.
The plane underwent explosive decompression over the Arctic
Ocean and there were no survivors,"
Haldersen absorbed the information as calmly as though
he were hearing of the assassination of Julius Caesar.
"Where was I when the accident occurred?"
"In Copenhagen," the robot replied. "You had intended to
return to San Francisco with your family on Flight 103; how-
ever, according to your data file here, you became involved
in an emotional relationship with a woman named Marie
Rasmussen, whom you had met in Copenhagen, And failed
to return to your hotel in time to go to the airport. Your wife,
evidently aware of the situation, chose not to wait for you.
Her subsequent death, and that of your children, produced
a traumatic guilt reaction in which you came to regard your-
self as responsible for their terminations."
"I would take that attitude, wouldn't I?" Haldersen said.
"Sin and retribution. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. I always
had a harsh view of sin, even while I was sinning. I should
have been an Old Testament prophet."
"Shall I provide more information, sir?"
"Is there more?"
"We have in the files Dr. Bryce's report headed, The Job
Complex: A Study in the Paralysis of Guilt."
"Spare me that," Haldersen said. "All right, go."
He was alone. The Job Complex, he thought. Not really
appropriate, was it? Job was a man without sin, and yet he
was punished grievously to satisfy a whim «f the Almighty.
A little presumptuous, I'd say, to identify myself with him.
Cain would have been a better choice. Cain said unto the
Lord, My punishment is greater than I can bear. But Cain
was a sinner. I was a sinner. I sinned and Emily died for it.
When, eleven, eleven and a half years ago? And now I know
nothing at all about it except what the machine just told me.
Redemption through oblivion, I'd call it. I have expiated my
sin and now I'm free. I have no business staying in this hos-
pital any longer. Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way,
which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it. I've got
to get out of here. Maybe I can be of some help to others.
He belted his bathrobe, took a drink of water, and went
out of the room. No one stopped him. The elevator did not
seem to be running, but he found the stairs, and walked down,
a little creakily. He had not been this far from his room in
more than a year. The lower floors of the hospital were in
chaos doctors, orderlies, robots, patients, all milling around
excitedly. The robots were trying to calm people and get them
back to their proper places. "Excuse me," Haldersen said se-
renely. "Excuse me. Excuse me." He left the hospital, un-
molested, by the front door. The air outside was as fresh as
young wine; he felt like weeping when it hit his nostrils. He
was free. Redemption through oblivion. The disaster high
abpve the Arctic no longer dominated his thoughts. He looked
upon it precisely as if it had happened to the family of some
other man, long ago. Haldersen began to walk briskly down
Van Ness, feeling vigor returning to his legs with every
stride. A young woman, sobbing wildly, erupted from a build-
ing and collided with him. He caught her, steadied her, Was
surprised at his own strength as he kept her from toppling.
She trembled and pressed her head against his chest, "Can
I do anything for you?" he asked. "Can I be of any help?"
Panic had begun to enfold Freddy Munson during dinner
at Ondine's Wednesday night. He had begun to be annoyed
with Helene in the midst of the truffled chicken breasts, and
so he had started to think about the details of business; and
to his amazement he did not seem to have the details quite
right in his mind; and so he felt the early twinges of terror.
The trouble was that Helene was going on and on about
the art of sonic sculpture in general and Paul Mueller in
particular. Her interest was enough to arouse faint jealousies
in Munson. Was she getting ready to leap from his bed to
Paul's? Was she thinking of abandoning the wealthy, glam-
orous, but essentially prosaic stockbroker for the irrespon-
sible, impecunious, fascinatingly gifted sculptor? Of course,
Helene kept company with a number of other men, but Mun-
son knew them and discounted them as rivals; they were
nonentities, escorts to fill her idle nights when he was-too
busy for her. Paul Mueller, however, was another Mun-
son could not bear the thought that Helene might leave him
for Paul. So he shifted his concentration to the day's maneu-
vers. He had extracted a thousand shares of the $5.87 con-
vertible preferred of Lunar Transit from the Schaeffer
account, pledging it as collateral to cover his shortage in the
matter of the Comsat debentures, and then, tapping the How-
ard account for five thousand Southeast Energy Corporation
warrants, he had or had those warrants come out of the
Brewster account? Brewster was big on utilities. So was How-
ard, but that account was heavy on Mid-Atlantic Power, so
would it also be loaded with Southeast Energy? In any case,
had he put those warrants up against the Zurich uranium [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]