Watson, Ian - Novel 11 Read Online Free PDF Page A

film isn’t fabulous, then you’re a charlatan.’
                 ‘Ach,
people’s tangled, hidden motives! Sometimes,’ thought Kirilenko,
Tm just too perceptive for my own good . . .’ Yet danger was lurking here:
danger to the Doctor’s own reputation, which naturally he was hoping to
propagandize by means of the proposed film for the sake of his research and
future funding.
                 If
Levin was maladroit in his handling of the film, or
even mangled it subconsciously out of jealousy, the Doctor’s hard-won
reputation would be injured publicly on film screens through all the Republics
. . .
                 It
was clear that he, Kirilenko, was indeed being asked to perform as a stage
hypnotist (all be it from the wings)—this was what Levin the impresario wanted.
But Levin also demanded scientific credibility so that the film would be an
advancement of human knowledge, something socially responsible. These were
mixed motives.
                 “No,
no!’’ Sonya protested. Sonya was an enthusiastic young lady but she wasn’t
entirely perceptive yet. . . “Dr Kirilenko has achieved a breakthrough in
technique. From now on the trance subject can call up his alter ego at will.
Just as an actor does,’’ she added grandly, though the acting profession was a
mystery to her. “The human mind isn’t a single psychic system. It’s many different systems, all co-operating. Like your own
Film Unit!’’
                 Mikhail
smirked at Sergey, who looked upset.
                 “So Dr Kirilenko selectively hypnotises the left brain. But
he leaves the other hemisphere semi-autonomous. This method he calls
‘split-hypnosis’. Split-hypnosis should have important applications to the
treatment of schizophrenia. But obviously it can help in the present case too,
where . . . er . . . Mr Petrov is sane. And in all cases like
it.’’
                 Kirilenko
took over, charmingly. “That’s why I’m so delighted to work with you. To be
quite honest, I was thinking along these same lines myself. But you beat me to
it, you smart fellows! And now, since I’m inexcusably late, perhaps we should
proceed to a demonstration? The first course: the soup. . . When
shall we begin with, Felix Moseivich?’’
                 “When? Well, now . . .’’
                 “No,
I mean: which year?”
                 “Oh,
hmm, yes. I see. What do you think, Sergey?”
                 “How
about here in Krasnoyarsk ? Just before Chekhov sets off for Kansk.” Sergey thumbed through his notebook. “Let’s see. . .
that’ll be . . . yes, May 29th 1890 .”
                 “I
think,” said Felix, “possibly we should slot in slightly earlier . . . just
before Tomsk , hmm?”
                 Kirilenko
drew an eye patch and an earplug out of his pocket. Sergey shrugged. “It’s all
the same to me. Tomsk first, then we’ll jump him forward to Krasnoyarsk .”
                 “Fine,”
said Kirilenko. “Do we have a tape recorder? Yes . . . Paper? Good. Now, if
you’ll just kindly fix this patch comfortably over your right eye, Mikhail . .
     

FIVE
                 Floods! Watery desolation
. ..
                And a bittern, booming out its mad
call like a pregnant cow mooing into an empty barrel.
                 Anton’s
felt boots were rotting apart, but he didn’t dare subject his feet to the only
alternative. The leather jackboots he had blithely equipped himself with were
obviously an instrument of torture designed by the Spanish Inquisition to pinch
and amputate one’s pins.
                 Plodging
knee-deep, he and the latest driver Yevgeny hauled another pair of neurotic,
shying horses towards some huts on a little hill above the flood water. Anton’s
throat was hoarse from cursing, but this was the only form of encouragement
these