Читать книгу Libertionne - Anna Tishchenko - Страница 10

“Tiberius. You are an amazing person!” Michael said, wiping away his tears of laughter, and Laura continued to sip her mint cocktail mournfully, sitting on the little couch in the large office of Doctor Storm. “Within 24 hours they tossed you not only out of jail, but out of a mental hospital!”

“What’s even more surprising,” Tiberius noted softly, “is that they still haven’t kicked me out of the only place – the university – where I, by the way, teach children.”

“This is specifically thanks to me,” said Laura gruffly. “If you continue acting like this, I’ll fire you.”

She turned away demonstratively and scratched Lancelot behind the ear. The bulldog sprawled imposingly on his master’s lap, and drooled on her perfectly ironed linen pants.

“Fire me,” said Tiberius, stretching out sweetly in the chair. “I will live like half of Libertionne – on unemployment benefits, which is more than my teaching salary.”

For the first time in 24 hours he was able to truly relax. Here, in his friend’s office was a veritable oasis in the desert of practicality, speed and progress. Not following the latest fashion trends, blind to external criticism, Michael decorated his office according to his own sense of style. The walls were covered with oak paneling halfway to the ceiling, with dark green wallpaper above it. An old fashioned wooden desk with various drawers and sections. Tiberius particularly liked the 19th-century bronze clock. One of the clock hands squeaked as it moved from section to section, no matter how much Michael oiled it, and the sound it made was rather charming.

Tea was served in thick porcelain cups the color of whipped cream. Even Laura warmed up a bit; she was not looking so angrily at Tiberius, and even smiled when Lancelot silently and unashamedly stole a cookie from the tray.

“Laura, my dear, don’t sulk,” Michael winked at her. “If you had seen the look on the therapist’s face when she called the police, and they refused to have anything to do with him, begging her to take him back!”

“It’s not funny.”

“Oh, go on! Just imagine, I’m sitting in my office, and there’s a scream and a noisy racket, then the announcement that a patient has caused a doctor to faint. What did you tell poor Cordeline? She’s asking for an unpaid leave of absence.”

“She’s a bit of a weakling.”

“They also tell me that this patient broke one orderly’s jaw, and another one’s arm. I recognized the style immediately. Only my beloved childhood friend, a shining star in the field of history and ethnology could, in a half hour, drive even a madhouse crazy. Tiberius, my dear, why did you beat up the orderlies?”

“Well… it was kind of an accident. A reflex or something. I’m sitting in a chair, talking with a nice girl about pleasant, insignificant things, when suddenly your guys fly in, pile on top of me, and gag me, by the way,” Tiberius said, becoming animated. “I got used to the handcuffs from today, but why a gag?”

“Come now, my dear,” Michael said, looking craftily but amiably at Tiberius. “Do I have to explain it to you? The tongue is the most fearsome of weapons. In short, where did all the problems in this world come from? That’s right. ‘In the beginning there was the word.’ Then what? The fall of man, war, various disasters. Or as another example, how did the serpent deceive Eve? Again, with words.”

“Of course I’m flattered by such a comparison,” Tiberius growled, “but if I knew how to lie like the abovementioned creepy-crawly, my life would be a lot simpler.”

Dr. Storm broke out laughing, and his entire friendly, rosy face brightened. Looking at him, Tiberius felt a combination of admiration and light envy. Dr. Storm was a rare type of person – passionately devoted to his work, and thus oblivious to what was happening around him. He reminded Tiberius of the French painter Jacques-Louis David, who painted wonderful paintings regardless of the regime that was ruling at the time. Being for the government what we now call a “brand manager,” he set fire to a three-meter straw figure symbolizing the monarchy, then the same straw figure of the revolution, not worrying about anything. Dr. Storm was able to not attend civic events, not have a hobby, and the main thing, not to have a private life. This is what Tiberius envied most of all. When asked how he managed this, Michael happily replied that in the eyes of society, the head of a psychiatric clinic was himself a bit of a nutcase, so why are you asking him?

“And who are your patients?” asked Tiberius, “losers who were ruthlessly cast aside by society, unstable types?”

“What? Of course not!” Michael replied, shaking his head. “They are all successful people, who have reached the top of the hill after years of climbing.”

“I don’t understand. Someone who has reached the top…”

“… ends up on a small patch, wind blowing from all sides, and, as a rule, all alone. You know, all of us from childhood are obsessed with the idea of what I call “chasing after the bluebird.” As a doctor, I believe the biggest tragedy in our society is the dictatorship of happiness. A person is forced to be happy; happiness is wished upon him with every step he takes, and others are constantly checking – are you happy? Doctors, social workers, our partners. They order us: be happy! And how to be sure that you are? And how should you act, if you know in the depths of your soul that you are not?

Tiberius was barely listening to his friend’s pontification as he stared intently at Laura’s half-opened, pale-pink lips. Having touched them only several hours earlier, he had in effect opened a Pandora’s box.

I wonder if her nipples are that color…

From far away came Michael’s voice:

“We deified the economy, gave it the role of a referee who determines the level of our happiness, and it no longer serves, but commands us. We have mixed up the concepts of comfort, well-being and happiness, and this is why we began to regard money with such reverence; we believed in its absolute power, that only money was the measure of success and the primary virtue. Like ants we climbed to the top, firmly believing that just a little more and we’ll buy a house, we’ll get a better job, and finally it – happiness – will arrive. For the sake of this dream, to catch the bluebird, we reject everything that might stand in its way. And now, the result has been achieved. And further? Instead of euphoria, disappointment and boredom. Depression, neurosis, psychosis, and…

Tiberius, as if spellbound, looked at the impertinent Lancelot, whose hind paw was slowly but steadily pushing Laura’s purse to the edge of the couch. If the purse were to fall, she was sure to lean down and pick it up.

“Looking at how you live,” Laura smiled, “it’s obvious you are completely uninterested in money. That, I assume, is a real Boucher hanging to the left of the desk? And if that’s the case, humanity has always craved money.”

Lancelot, just a little more, come on…

“Of course, but people used to say that life was difficult and filled with sorrow. That difficulties were presented to us in order to test us and make us stronger. Nowadays a person regards the slightest difficulty as a personal insult. How can this be – such difficulties are not planned! From all sides a person is given assurances that he is worthy of better, that he should believe in himself, and if he only thinks positively, then positive things will materialize…

Yes!

Lancelot lazily stretched his leg, kicking the purse with his paw; not only did it fall, but the contents were strewn all over the floor.

Oh Lancelot, you are the best among beasts. What a wise decision I made when I bumped into you at the pet store. And I even hesitated, wondering whether I should give you to her as a Christmas present, or the usual pieces of electronic junk?

“I don’t know about that,” Laura said, gently moving the bulldog to the couch, and leaning down toward the fallen purse. “We live in a free empire.” You could have speculated about the universe in public five hundred years ago. In our modern society we are given all rights…”

She leaned down low, and her hair, which was in a pony tail, fell down, revealing a slender neck with soft, golden curls of hair. Her blouse was pulled up, showing a section of her lightly suntanned back. Tiberius suddenly felt hot, his tie was uncomfortable, and he mechanically loosened the silk knot.

“Except for the right to be unhappy,” Michael retorted.

“I understand what you mean,” said Laura, trying to retrieve her lipstick, which had rolled under the couch, got down on all fours, with her back to Tiberius and Michael, “that a modern person… There’s no way I can reach it. I mean, a modern person will react to any obstacle on the path to the top as a tragedy of cosmic proportions. Darn it, what the…

She extended her hand as far as possible, trying to grab the smooth golden cylinder, which upon contact with her fingers rolled even further away. Her breasts almost touching the floor, Laura bent even lower, and the thin fabric of her pants tightly hugged her well-proportioned hips and widely spread legs.

Tiberius closed his eyes and clenched his teeth so hard that they made a scraping sound. And then it wasn’t only his tie that felt tight.

Calm down, you pervert.

There, I almost got it,” Laura said, arching like a cat, and finally reached the cursed lipstick with the tips of her fingers. When she straightened up, the top button of her blouse, not being able to handle what the experiment required of it, came unbuttoned.

“Tiberius, you just broke my favorite obsidian pen,” Michael observed.

“Really?” he said, returning to reality with great effort. Tiberius looked down and saw that his palm was crushing in two a black quill pen. “Please, forgive me. I didn’t even notice that I had grabbed it.”

At that, Laura finally started paying attention:

“What’s the matter with you? You’re a little pale, your eyes are glazed.”

“He’s just a little lost in thought,” said Michael, good-naturedly calming her down. “You know these academics, their heads are always stuffed with some kind of high-minded philosophical exploration. Tiberius, my dear, is there something you need in order to be happy, something you don’t have?

Tiberius flinched, and at that moment the bronze clock chimed, its rich sound resonating loudly.

“Probably a clock like that one,” he said, the first thing that came into his head, a bit slyly. Laura raised her eyebrows, but Michael nodded in understanding.

“I understand what you mean. You are talking about the right to some capricious luxury, about deviating from the established norm.

“Yes, yes,” Tiberius nodded hurriedly. “That’s exactly it.”

“By the way,” Michael said, bringing the teacup to his lips and glancing at Lancelot with amused curiosity, “our restless friend – why here? I don’t mind, I’m just interested.”

Laura sighed.

“Martha is worried that I making her into a housewife, and so she refused to watch him today.”

“It’s rather strange, as she’s never worked, and almost never leaves the house.”

“But she says that I can’t see her personality,” Laura said with an irritated wave of her hand. “I had to take Lance with me to a meeting of the trustees. Now there’s one trustee less. You see, he didn’t like the fact that Lance made passionate love to his briefcase. What a bore…”

Laura scratched the one responsible for the change in the lineup of the board of trustees behind the ear, and leaned back on the couch. Neither she nor Michael noticed the buttons that had come undone, but Tiberius with effort shifted his gaze to the painting hanging before him on the wall. It depicted an alpine mountain ridge covered with snow, but in his mind’s eye he saw a completely different picture.

“You actually have physical meetings?” Michael said, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “There’s a thing called videoconferencing…”

“For those who want their business and private affairs to be part of the public domain? Certainly,” Laura snorted, “even you, Michael must know that the best network security is the absence thereof. I mean, the network, not the security.”

“Why not put Lancelot in a hotel for animals?” Tiberius inhaled deeply and tried to think rationally.

Two pairs of eyes, one dark-brown and doglike, the other feminine and jade, stared at him sternly and judgmentally.

“We were there,” Laura answered reservedly, “and we didn’t like it. They put them in cages – roomy ones, but still cages – and they feed them dry food. They give them muskrats.”

“Er… muskrats?”

“Yes. Rubber ones. One single toy, can you imagine? And there’s no social interaction.”

“I see.”

A blasphemous thought crept into Tiberius’s head, that the capricious Martha and Lancelot, for the modern and free Laura, were a replacement for something, something natural for a unmodern and unfree woman.

A nurse suddenly walked into the room.

“Mr. Storm, you have a visitor. Not a sick one, I mean. I think.”

“Oh,” Michael sighed, “I completely forgot. I have a commissioner today, from the ministry of health. And what do they need?”

Laura perked up.

“That’s good. I like commissioners. Show them in.”

And for some reason she opened her smartphone. A scraggly woman entered the room, resembling a moth-eaten hyena in a bad mood. A tweed suit, a tablet computer under her arm, and an unfriendly look.

“Mr. Storm!” she began in a harsh, barking voice. “We have been observing your activities for a long time, and some issues have arisen. Yes, issues.”

“How can I help you?” Michael asked politely.

The hyena stuck her long nose into the tablet computer.

“Our commission has watched your activities for the last three years and has detected excessive, I would say, loyalty. You discharge your patients too soon…”

“Clearly because they are quickly cured,” Michael smiled, but it was obvious that he was not himself.

“Today, according to our data, you received a socially dangerous, aggressive, violent psychopath. That’s right, dangerous! Yet I’ve audited the premises, and I have not seen any such patients. Where is he?”

“There,” said Michael, pointing at Tiberius, who was wearing a business suit and quietly drinking tea.

“Explain! And explain also, why your office looks so strange? This looks more like a historical museum than the ordinary office of a practicing physician.

“I can explain,” Laura said, her voice now soft and gentle, a sure sign that she was very angry. “Dr. Storm was in the middle of a treatment session for a patient, which you have unceremoniously interrupted,” she added, raising her voice.

“Yes, but…”

“In the course of one year, under the leadership of Dr. Storm,” Laura said, glancing at her smartphone, “the clinic has cured and returned to society sixteen thousand five hundred and three patients, which is two and a half times more than his predecessor did in ten years of work.”

“But this office!”

“Shock therapy for the patients. The Dr. works with each one personally. Personally! Now let’s look at the complaints over the course of eight years of work… Can you believe, not a single one. As for complaints about the ministry of health…” Laura turned the screen of her smartphone toward the woman inspector, “should I dictate the seven-figure total?”

“But wait, I…”

“That’s right, you. Let’s open your private file, Mr. Bitch.”

“What?! You cannot…”

“Why not? I truly can, as I’m the rector of the university where you were once a student. We take care of our graduates, keep an eye on them, so to say.

Mr. Bitch turned pale and jumped a little.

“Perhaps… I’ve seen everything that I wanted. I have no more questions for you, Dr. Storm. Would you allow me to leave? I will write a report…”

“I have a question – she was relentless – did you see the door?”

Mr. Bitch saw the door.

“Please be so kind as to use it right now, and to carefully close it from the other side. And also, when you have written the report, send it to me beforehand for approval. Lancelot, give the respected representative of the commission my business card.

The bulldog trotted unhurriedly across the room with a business card in his teeth. The miserable hyena graciously took the card, which was moistened with dog drool, and quickly slipped out the door after shooting Laura an obsequious smile.

“You are a monster!” Michael exclaimed in admiration.

Laura chuckled ambiguously, but it was clear that she felt good.