The Martian Viking Read Online Free PDF

run."
    Biberkopf rose, offering the film canister. "Give it a try," he coaxed. "I think you'll really like it."
    The temptation to wrest the onees from Biberkopf's fingers and drop them into his open palm was terrific, but Alderdice's programming held true. He backed toward the door, dismayed at the churning ambivalence inside him. Clutching at the doorknob, he plopped the borsalino on his head and slipped out into the hallway. The last thing he saw as he shut the door was Johnsmith Biberkopf, gaunt, holding out the onees.
    Alderdice was afraid that Biberkopf would come out after him, so he turned and ran the length of the hall and started down the stairs, wheezing and sweating, his flat feet slamming down on the steps almost painfully.
     
    Ryan Effner wondered why the credit card had to be inserted before the session began. He guessed that there must have been some good reason for it, but whatever it was, Madame Psychosis would say nothing until his credit was approved. He wondered if this were true of all cybershrinks.
    While he waited he watched a loop showing highlights from videos about the history of psychological spiritualism, opening with a pan of a Catholic Church confessional, followed by still photos of Madame Blavatsky, Freud, and Budd Hopkins, and seguéing into a short history of the cybershrink industry. The video darkened abruptly as the slot below the screen spat out his card, and the earthy figure of Madame Psychosis began to move ponderously.
    "Good afternoon, Ryan," she said in an eastern European accent, exotic and profound, yet soothing at the same time.
    "Good afternoon," he replied, the video still fresh in his mind. He was grateful that it was a machine he was talking to, and not a person. No matter how professional his demeanor, another human being could not really be trusted with one's darkest secrets.
    "And how is Ronindella?"
    "Fine. She's relieved that the government is taking her husband off her hands. Of course, Johnsmith will be helping her bring up her son even while he's on Luna."
    "How do you feel about that?" Madame Psychosis asked.
    "Well, Ronindella and I both think it's for the best."
    "I'm not interested in what Ronindella thinks, but in what you feel."
    "Well . . .I guess I've got what you'd call mixed feelings about it."
    "Ambivalence. In what way do you feel ambivalent?"
    "Well, Johnsmith is my friend."
    "Yes?"
    "And I feel funny, sneaking around with his wife until he gets off the planet."
    "Why?"
    Ryan toyed with the loose cloth of his jodhpurs. "I don't know. It just doesn't seem right."
    "Do you feel that you have contributed to Mr. Biberkopf's problems?"
    "Well, no . . .not exactly."
    "Then why do you feel that you have wronged him?" Because of the Eastern European accent, the word "wronged" came out "ronked."
    "If he knew what's going on, he'd be hurt."
    "But you are trying to prevent him from finding out, are you not?"
    Ryan peered at Madame Psychosis' full figure, her billowing skirts, and felt a surge of relief. She was right—he was trying to help Beeb, not hurt him. After all, it wasn't his fault that Beeb had blown it, as Madame Psychosis had explained to him during the last few sessions. If Beeb had sought out professional help, as Ryan had, he'd have held onto what he had, wouldn't have to worry about the Triple-S, and would probably feel a whole lot better about himself. Not probably: surely. It was, in a very real sense, all Beeb's own fault.
    "I think I've got it all worked out now," he said to the cybershrink.
    "Very good," said Madame Psychosis. "The vibrations of the universe are with you."
    "And within my spirit," Ryan responded automatically, in the ritual of the Video Church of the New Age.
    Madame Psychosis floated in a holographic depiction of the galaxies, saying in a reverberating voice, "May the eternal forces of goodness and purity bless you."
    "Amen." Ryan made the sign of Aquarius and rose from the pew, as the stars did their cosmic dance around