Theodor Ventskevich - Buy or Die. There cometh a time of ruthless advertising

As you know, Jack did not like to waste his time. It was not that easy, and took him a while to get to the president’s apartments. Anyway, he got there. Once there, he grabbed the fence, so as not to fly away by chance, and shouted in a menacing voice: “Come out, villain, and fight!”

Rock Doc almost choked on a pie he was eating (the president’s refrigerator was stuffed with the best pies). Well, had there been any choice left to him? Nope. Not a single one. So, he finished the pie and came out for battle. He looked around and at once spotted Jack, who fluttered in the wind, grabbing the fence with one hand and holding his own head with the other. Rock Doc had never laughed so much before.

“Oh,” he said, having calmed down a bit, “I’m so scared, bro. I’m so scared. Even more so, as I need to sneeze and can’t even imagine where we will find you if that happens.”

He started to laugh again and just couldn’t stop, as if someone had tickled him. Jack, not saying a word, just waved his hand (which had some three hundred balloons in it) and hit Doc right in the ear! Doc stopped laughing at once and shook his head fiercely to get rid of the awful ringing in his ears. I must say that Doc got angry very quickly. And this very anger played a very nasty joke on him, because Doc, not thinking for long, poked Jack with his finger and ordered him to turn to stone. So Jack did. That is, he turned to stone at once.”

The hushed trio at the table gasped.

“Yes, Jack was petrified,” continued Y. “More precisely, the balloons were, not Jack. How on earth can you turn air into stone? Air is air and air it will remain. Balloons are another matter. With their new stony weight, they poured down on the ground like peas. Each pea, hitting the ground, shattered into pieces, setting free yet another part of Jack. In less than a minute, Jack was complete again.”

At this point Y noticed at last that Tess had been sending him desperate signals for some time now. He glanced at his watch, lifted his eyebrows and hastily finished the story.

“And this time, Doc got such a beating from Jack that I can hardly share the scene with you. Just believe me, the evil was punished. And now everyone needs to get dressed and do it very quickly. Twick’s lessons start in five minutes.”

“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?”