Читать книгу Buy or Die. There cometh a time of ruthless advertising - Theodor Ventskevich - Страница 5

“Hello, what seems to be the problem?” The doctor’s rosy face shone with optimism and self-confidence.

“My ear hurts,” Z replied gloomily.

“Does it hurt, ache, or hear poorly?” the doctor laid out his assortment smartly. “Or maybe you are just not happy with its shape?”

“Most likely the latter,” agreed Z. “I am not happy with its new shape.”

He gently touched the sticking plaster on his ear.

The doctor’s face froze.

“What happened?” he asked, for some reason now looking at the door and not at Z.

“An accident. I chopped it off with a car door,” Z explained.

“I see, I see,” the doctor said absently, never taking his eyes off the door.

The door opened, letting in two male nurses. One of them with a bored look remained on the threshold, the other went to the window and casually sat on the window sill.

For a while everyone was silent.

“What’s going on?” Z asked.

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” the doctor replied. “So what were we talking about? Ah, yes, your ear. Well. Let’s proceed. Your identity, please.”

“Z368AT.”

“Occupation?”

“Undo service.”

“At what age did you have your first sexual experience that involved another person?”

“At sixtee…” Z stopped abruptly. “What on earth does that have to do with my ear?”

The doctor smiled wearily.

“Never mind. That’s just the formal questionnaire. So at what age did you have your first sexual experience?”

“At sixteen.”

“Your orientation?”

“Traditional.”

“Everything is traditional. May I have more details, please?”

“Women,” Z explained concisely.

“So old-fashioned…” The doctor was surprised. “Are you a sectarian?”

“No, just a man.”

“It’s okay,” the doctor reassured. “There is nothing to be ashamed of.”

He took off his spectacles.

“Okay, next question. Have you had any mental or sexual disorders in your family history?”

Z stood up from his chair with a jerk. Somehow he, the doctor, and the two orderlies managed to do this with amazing synchrony.

“What’s going on?” Z asked with annoyance.

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” the doctor replied reassuringly. “I beg you, please sit down. We do not want to… Do we?”

He looked back at the orderlies. They shrugged indifferently.

“No,” Z decided. “We do not.”

He sat down slowly. The doctor, after a pause, sat down too. The orderlies remained standing. The doctor sighed heavily.

“Okay. Let’s see what you have there. Please remove the patch.”

Z felt the corner of the sticking plaster and gently pulled it down. The plaster peeled off surprisingly easily as if it hung on the skin only due to friction. The doctor and the two orderlies, with bated breath, watched the procedure.

“Here it is,” Z said modestly, removing the plaster completely and turning to the doctor sideways.

The doctor approached cautiously.

“But this is not a bite!” he exclaimed.

“This is not a bite,” the first orderly confirmed indifferently.

“Nope,” agreed the second.

“Then you both can go,” the doctor commanded, and the orderlies retired.

In the silence that followed, the doctor began filling out some papers.

“What was it?” Z asked.

“Pure formality, I told you already.”

“For what?”

The doctor sighed.

“This is a very characteristic injury. Just a marker. Well, right ear. We are obliged to detain such patients until the police arrives.”

“I do not understand,” Z admitted.

“Well… Every home robot has this feature.”

“What feature?”

“Well, a program that makes it bite off the right ear of a rapist.”

“What’s a rapist?”

“Usually the owner is the abuser,” explained the doctor reluctantly. “Or some other member of the family. Children, for example. Less often, pets…”

“You do not mean sexual abuse, I hope?” Z asked unbelievingly.

“Unfortunately, I do. And do not look at me like that. If you knew how many patients without a right ear I have here every month…”

Z opened his mouth, then closed it again and shook his head.

“Damn it!” he said emphatically. “Damn it all! Let’s return to my ear. What will we do with it?”

The doctor thought for a second.

“First, take off your suit. A nurse will clean the blood from it. Yes. Good. Wonderful.”

“I’m more concerned about the ear,” Z reminded him.

“An ear?” the doctor shrugged. “This is the smallest problem. We will just make a copy from your left ear, invert it and place it in the incubator. Tomorrow morning you will have a new one, and even better than before. After it’s grafted onto the old spot, nobody will see the difference.”

“It’s that easy?” Z was surprised.

“Sure. Had you chopped off, say, your head, then, of course, we would have some troubles. But your ear…”

The doctor waved his hand casually.

“In the meantime, so that you don’t scare passersby, let’s try on a prosthetic.”

He rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a plastic human ear.

“Here it is. This one should fit. I’ll put it on with glue; should hold until morning. Just don’t get it wet.”

“I won’t,” Z promised. “But may I have a sick leave certificate for today?”

“Of course. Without any doubt. You need a good rest.”

***

Half an hour later they parted.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” the doctor was saying. “Any time after six in the morning. By that time your new ear will be completely ready.”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow then,” Z answered.

On the street, he unrolled his loot and ran through it with his eyes greedily.

“Visit otolaryngologist from 8:15 till 9:15. Diagnosis… Recommendations… Here it was! Sick leave for 2 hours (till 11:15).”

Z spat. What a generous world!

***

“Unbelievable!” Z brooded sitting in a cafe and fumbling for a cigarette in his pocket. “To get out of the car without any protection in the very center of the city! Best way to turn into an imbecile. I wonder if I would ever notice?”

He touched the ear mechanically and pulled back his hand at once.

“Great,” he summed up. “Just great.”

A drink or two would have helped him feel much better. Z glanced out the window, where Toy, shiny and clean-fingered, was bathing in the sunlight. And while he was there, a drink was out of the question. Z remembered how, having detected the smell of fresh beer, Toy drove him to the police station without a word. Toy had received an honorary sticker on his hood then, and Z had got the subway for half a year. Recalling this period, he shivered. On the other hand, it was the subway where he had met Ness.

“Bloody bastard”, Z murmured, squinting at the car. He finally found a “Cameleon’ pack in his pocket, pulled out a cigarette and flicked his lighter. A fiery tongue, shaped like a camel and changing its color like a chameleon, touched the tip of the cigarette.

“I warn you,” the cigarette squeaked, “I can do harm. For example, I can impair potency. And I am actually going to do this! Also, I may increase the risk of cardiovascular diseases. And you will see, I will increase it. Draw a horizontal line in the air if you want to know the details. Draw a vertical…”

Z waved his cigarette up and down impatiently, cutting off the squeak in mid-sentence. His thoughts returned to the recent incident. A fight in the street… It seems to be in the category of socially dangerous crimes already. He could consider himself lucky. It was a very near escape. And, thanks to recent changes in legislation, justice had no retroactive effect any more. Until you were caught at the scene of the crime you were innocent. Z automatically touched his ear and turned cold.

“Here it was! Or better to say, was not. That is, it was exactly at the scene of the crime now!”

He thought this over carefully. If the ear was found, this could be interpreted as if he, Z, was, although partially, detained at the crime scene. Or as if he had not left it completely. In that case, formally, the judgment should probably be made in proportion to the arrested part…

“Bullshit,” he interrupted himself. “Nobody will pick up someone else’s ear off the street.”

He drank his coffee in a gulp and went outside; he had to hurry. A bunch of kids had already gathered near Toy. They looked very excited and were discussing something heatedly, poking Toy’s windows with their fingers.

The cook really looked bad. His open eyes were swollen and had turned pale, and unpleasant yellowish-green spots were creeping across his face.

“I was telling him that smoking is harmful,” Z explained to the kids, nearing from behind. “He never listened. Never! And just imagine; he was still under ten!”