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- Даниэл Киз
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- Цветы для Элджернона
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- Стр. 165/233
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I
could
see
he
was
upset
about
the
idea
of
my
visiting
Warren
As
if
I
were
ordering
my
coffin
,
to
sit
in
before
I
died
.
But
then
,
I
can
’
t
blame
him
because
he
doesn
’
t
realize
that
finding
out
who
I
really
am
—
the
meaning
of
my
total
existence
involves
knowing
the
possibilities
of
my
fu
ture
as
well
as
my
past
,
where
I
’
m
going
as
well
as
where
I
’
ve
been
.
Although
we
know
the
end
of
the
maze
holds
death
(
and
it
is
something
I
have
not
always
known
—
not
long
ago
the
adolescent
in
me
thought
death
could
happen
only
to
other
people
)
,
I
see
now
that
the
path
I
choose
through
that
maze
makes
me
what
I
am
.
I
am
not
only
a
thing
,
but
also
a
way
of
being
—
one
of
many
ways
—
and
knowing
the
paths
I
have
followed
and
the
ones
left
to
take
will
help
me
understand
what
I
am
becoming
.
That
evening
and
for
the
next
few
days
I
immersed
myself
in
psychology
texts
:
clinical
,
personality
,
psycho
-
metrics
,
learning
,
experimental
psychology
,
animal
psychol
ogy
,
physiological
psychology
,
behaviorist
,
gestalt
,
analytical
,
functional
,
dynamic
,
organismic
,
and
all
the
rest
of
the
ancient
and
modern
factions
,
schools
,
and
systems
of
thought
.
The
depressing
thing
is
that
so
many
of
the
ideas
on
which
our
psychologists
base
their
beliefs
about
human
intelligence
,
memory
,
and
learning
are
all
wishful
thinking
.
Fay
wants
to
come
down
and
visit
the
lab
,
but
I
’
ve
told
her
not
to
.
All
I
need
now
is
for
Alice
and
Fay
to
run
into
each
other
.
I
’
ve
enough
to
worry
about
without
that
.
July
14
It
was
a
bad
day
to
go
out
to
"
Warren
—
gray
and
drizzly
—
and
that
may
account
for
the
depression
that
grips
me
when
I
think
about
it
.
Or
perhaps
I
’
m
kidding
myself
and
it
was
the
idea
of
possibly
being
sent
there
that
bothered
me
.
I
borrowed
Burt
’
s
car
.
Alice
wanted
to
come
along
,
but
I
had
to
see
it
alone
.
I
didn
’
t
tell
Fay
I
was
going
.
It
was
an
hour
-
and
-
a
-
half
drive
out
to
the
farmland
community
of
Warren
,
Long
Island
,
and
I
had
no
trouble
finding
the
place
:
a
sprawling
gray
estate
revealed
to
the
world
only
by
an
entrance
of
two
concrete
pillars
flanking
a
narrow
side
-
road
and
a
well
-
polished
brass
plate
with
the
name
Warren
State
Home
and
Training
School
.
The
roadside
sign
said
15
mph
,
so
I
drove
slowly
past
the
blocks
of
buildings
looking
for
the
administrative
offices
.
A
tractor
came
across
the
meadow
in
my
direction
,
and
in
addition
to
the
man
at
the
wheel
there
were
two
others
hanging
on
the
rear
.
I
stuck
out
my
head
and
called
:
"
Can
you
tell
me
where
Mr
.
Winslow
’
s
office
is
?
"
The
driver
stopped
the
tractor
and
pointed
to
the
left
and
ahead
.
"
Main
Hospital
.
Turn
left
and
bear
to
your
right
.
"
I
couldn
’
t
help
noticing
the
staring
young
man
riding
at
the
rear
of
the
tractor
,
hanging
on
to
a
handrail
.
He
was
unshaven
,
and
there
was
the
trace
of
an
empty
smile
.
He
had
on
a
sailor
’
s
hat
with
the
brim
pulled
down
childishly
to
shield
his
eyes
,
although
there
was
no
sun
out
.
I
caught
his
glance
for
a
moment
—
his
eyes
wide
,
inquiring
—
but
I
had
to
look
away
.
