【英文读物】BrainchildChapter 1 Ron Carvers day was beginning strangely.For one thing, the legs he swung off the narrow bed wouldnt touch the floor. And his hands, whose ten strong fingers could manipulate the controls of any ship ever launched into space, were weak and clumsy.He looked at the hands first, looked at them for a long time. Then he screamed.He screamed until footsteps were loud in the corridor outside his room; shrill, piping screams that didnt stop even when the giant woman-face was bending over him, speaking gentle, soothing words, stroking his thin shoulders with giant, comforting gestures.There, there, now, the woman was saying. Youre all right, Ronnie. Youre all right. It was only a nightmare. a bad old nightmare.She was right. Only the nightmare hadnt ended. The nightmare was before his face, in her gargantuan features, in her motherly touch on his frail body, in the sight of the small, soft appendages that were his hands.They were the hands of a boy of twelve. And Ron Carver was thirty years old.Two men giants joined the woman at his bedside, and one of them forced a small speckled capsule past his resisting lips. Then his viewpoint became detached and distant, and a pleasurable drowsiness overcame him. He stretched out and shut his eyes, but he could still hear the worried tones of their speech.Dr. Minton warned us, one of the men said, lifting Rons bony wrist and feeling for the pulse. The boy has suffered some severe traumatic shock.Dr. Minton! Ron Carvers mind grasped the familiar namethe name of his own physiciangratefully. But his body gave no sign.Maybe we better call him, the woman said nervously. I think hes still in the sick bay.Good idea.In another moment, a familiar hairy face was floating over Rons head like a captive balloon, a face grown grotesque in size.Doctor. he said with his lips.There. Dr. Minton patted his shoulder. Youre all right now, Ronnie. Youre perfectly all right. Just relax and try to sleep. The balloon came closer, and the scraggly ends of the doctors beard brushed his cheek. Then the doctors mouth was covering his small ear.Play the game, the doctor whispered. For your own sake. Play the game, Ron.Then he was asleep.Chapter 2 He awoke to the sound of running feet. He sat up in bed and looked towards the door of the small white room in which he was confined. It was partly open, and the sound of clattering soles and shrill young voices came through clearly.The door slammed open, startling him. A hoydenish youngster gaped at him. There was a flat lock of reddish hair over his forehead, and his face was freckled.Hoy, he said. Whats the matter with you?Ron stared back wordlessly.You sick or something? the boy said, edging into the room.No. His own voice, strange and reedy, frightened him. No, Im all right.Andy! A tall man with a frowning face appeared behind the boy. Come on, fella. Lets not waste any time. He looked at Ron. You the new chap?Yes.Feel well enough for some breakfast?I guess so.Fine. Then get some clothes on and come along.Hoy, the freckle-faced boy said curiously. You play airball?Thats enough of that. The man paddled the boys rump. Get along, Andy. Youll have plenty of time to get acquainted later.The boy giggled and ran down the hall. Ron got out of bed slowly, and walked towards the undersized clothing that was draped on a nearby chair. He slipped into a gray coverall and said: Listencan I talk to you?The man looked at his watch. Well . all right, I suppose. But only for a minute. I promised the boys a game this morning; Im Mr. Larkin, the athletic director.Ron hesitated. Mr. Larkin, Iwhere am I?Dont you know? Even the mans smile was half a frown. Youre at Roverwood Home for Boys. Didnt they tell you that?No, Ron said carefully. II dont seem to remember very much. How I got here, I mean.Dr. Minton brought you in last evening. Hes one of our directors.Oh. Ron laced on the tiny scuffed shoes. And wheres Dr. Minton now?Gone back to the city. Hes a busy man. Hear theyve got him working on some big government project. Well, come on, Ronnie. Breakfasts waiting.Yes, sir, Ron Carver said.He followed the tall man down the hall, having trouble guiding the short stumpy legs that were now his own. They entered a communal dining room, filled with the clatter of dishes and the laughter of boys. He was brought to a long table and seated beside Larkin. The other boys greeted him with only mild interest, but the freckle-faced youth at the other end dropped him a broad wink.He ate sparingly, choking on the food, his mind working. It was the longest nightmare of his life, and the moment of awakening seemed too far off for comfort.Then Larkin was standing up and rattling a spoon against a water glass.Fellas, he said, all those interested in thi