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Ungmennabækur
You Are Forbidden by Jerry Shelton - In a future where fate is determined by Predictable Life-Lines, Dr. Jules Craig wrestles with the ethical dilemma of revealing a patient's grim destiny while concealing his own. As he grapples with the weight of his own experiment to alter his predicted future, a chilling revelation threatens to unravel his sanity and reshape his understanding of destiny.
Dr. Jules Craig, P.L.L., was unhappy. He was famous. He was young. He was talented, healthy, successful. He carried the distinguished degree of P.L.L. He had everything!
But he was unhappy.
He sat at his tastefully furnished desk, shuffling the Life-Line charts of the patient seated across from him. The patient awaiting the diagnosis was nervous.
Poor devil! Craig thought. This man is going to die. He doesn't know it—and I can't tell him.
A wave of pity swept through him, intensifying his own brooding unhappiness. Despite the fact he had instructed his psycho-color experts to design his inner consultation office in as soothing a shade as scientifically possible, the patient was sweating profusely, awaiting the verdict. The room was comfortably air-conditioned.
The patient was a little fat man. The face was putty-white. Eyes shifty, breathing rapid, voice shaky and twisting of the hat. This man would be dead in three weeks, and he, Dr. Jules Craig, had to lie to the man. With an unpleasant sensation, he summoned his resolution, looked at the name near the upper left-hand corner of the charts, and spoke.
"You have no cause for worry, Elder Wayman," he said. He forced his voice to sound as smoothly professional as possible.
© 2024 Scott Miller (Hljóðbók): 9798882265600
Útgáfudagur
Hljóðbók: 12 maj 2024
232 of 317
Ungmennabækur
You Are Forbidden by Jerry Shelton - In a future where fate is determined by Predictable Life-Lines, Dr. Jules Craig wrestles with the ethical dilemma of revealing a patient's grim destiny while concealing his own. As he grapples with the weight of his own experiment to alter his predicted future, a chilling revelation threatens to unravel his sanity and reshape his understanding of destiny.
Dr. Jules Craig, P.L.L., was unhappy. He was famous. He was young. He was talented, healthy, successful. He carried the distinguished degree of P.L.L. He had everything!
But he was unhappy.
He sat at his tastefully furnished desk, shuffling the Life-Line charts of the patient seated across from him. The patient awaiting the diagnosis was nervous.
Poor devil! Craig thought. This man is going to die. He doesn't know it—and I can't tell him.
A wave of pity swept through him, intensifying his own brooding unhappiness. Despite the fact he had instructed his psycho-color experts to design his inner consultation office in as soothing a shade as scientifically possible, the patient was sweating profusely, awaiting the verdict. The room was comfortably air-conditioned.
The patient was a little fat man. The face was putty-white. Eyes shifty, breathing rapid, voice shaky and twisting of the hat. This man would be dead in three weeks, and he, Dr. Jules Craig, had to lie to the man. With an unpleasant sensation, he summoned his resolution, looked at the name near the upper left-hand corner of the charts, and spoke.
"You have no cause for worry, Elder Wayman," he said. He forced his voice to sound as smoothly professional as possible.
© 2024 Scott Miller (Hljóðbók): 9798882265600
Útgáfudagur
Hljóðbók: 12 maj 2024
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