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It was Dr Hilarius, her shrink or psychotherapist. But he sounded like Pierce doing a Gestapo officer.
"I didn't wake you up, did I," he began, dry. "You sound so frightened. How are the pills, not working?"
"I'm not taking them," she said.
"You feel threatened by them?"
"I don't know what's inside them."
"You don't believe that they're only tranquilizers."
"Do I trust you?" She didn't, and what he said next explained why not.
"We still need a hundred-and-fourth for the bridge." Chuckled aridly. The bridge, die Brucke, being his pet name for the experiment he was helping the community hospital run on effects of LSD-25, mesca-line, psilocybin, and related drugs on a large sample of surburban housewives. The bridge inward. "When can you let us fit you into our schedule."
"No," she said, "you have half a million others to choose from. It's three in the morning."
"We want you." Hanging in the air over her bed she now beheld the well-known portrait of Uncle that appears in front of all our post offices, his eyes gleaming unhealthily, his sunken yellow cheeks most violently rouged, his finger pointing between her eyes. I want you. She had never asked Dr Hilarius why, being afraid of all he might answer.
Томас Пинчон (р. 1937) – один из наиболее интересных, значительных и цитируемых представителей постмодернистской литературы США на русском языке не публиковался (за исключением одного рассказа). "Выкрикиватся лот 49" (1966) – интеллектуальный роман тайн удачно дополняется ранними рассказами писателя, позволяющими проследить зарождение уникального стиля одного из основателей жанра "черного юмора". Произведение Пинчона – "Выкрикивается лот 49" (1966) – можно считать пародией на готический роман....