The Polish Program (LSD, #2)

10. Light My Fire

Light My Fire

"I'm so glad you came, Doctor. Ever since I read your letter, I feel so bad... I'm sweating, I have gasses, I feel a headache coming on, I—"

"Please, Mister Oglethorpe. We have no time to listen to all your symptoms. We prefer to start with the treatment. Please, be so kind to let us in. Do you have a chair with arms, to sit in?"

Our white face masks make us look like bank robbers. Our white coats make us look like idiots who try to convince people in commercial advertisements to buy their soap or shampoo. It's our behaviour that makes us look like real medics: "How are you going to pay for the treatment? Do you have insurance? You prefer cash? Credit card?"

William Oglethorpe takes his wallet out of the back pocket of his trousers and hands me a platinum credit card. I ask him: "What's the Personal Identification Number? Just in case you die in the attempt. We won't risk working without being paid, you know."

"The code is 0000. Can we now, please, start the treatment? I'm feeling worse every second."

We tie the poor banker with tie rips on a chair. He can't move anything except his tongue.

"Is this absolutely necessary, doctor?"

"It is, Sir. We don't want to get hurt. We have experience. Patients start hitting us when they find out how much they have to pay when health insurance doesn't cover the treatment. But you're not like that, are you? You are polite and friendly and cooperative."

William Oglethorpe lets us finish the safety procedure and says: "Thank you for saving my life, Doctor."

"Saving your life? On the contrary, my dear Mister Oglethorpe. Until now, you were perfectly fine, but nurse Scarlett is going to have a word with you, and then she will become a worse threat to your health than you can imagine..."

Scarlett takes off her mask. She never had much face-to-face business with William Oglethorpe, but the two knew each other from her job at Treesome: "Hello, William. Do you remember me? I used to work for Treesome Ltd, in the centre. You are the banker of that company. You were so afraid you wouldn't get enough that you forced my boss to fire me and save on the costs. That was, indeed, a very costly operation: it cost me my job, my income, my house, my future and even my life. But... I have found a way to pay you back all your good advice."

William Oglethorpe panics. He looks at me as if he expects me to save him from this madwoman: "This is some kind of Good Cop - Bad Cop scene, right? She acts like she's going to hurt me and then you save me, right?"

"You watch too many films, Mister Oglethorpe. You hide in your ivory tower and you have absolutely no idea what happens in the real world outside. We're not cops, neither good cops nor bad cops. We don't act either: this is for real.", I say.

"I'm just doing my job..."

Scarlett loses her patience: "You can't convince this man with words, Red. Action speaks louder. Let's start with Act One. Can you please hand me your stiletto? Then I can act as if I cut his guts out, and he can act that he's bleeding, and I can act like I stick that knife in his eye, and he can act that he's having a lot of pain. Did you have any acting classes at the Bankers School, Billy Boy? I'm sure you did. You had to learn how to put on an honest face when you tell all your clients about the great service you provide, and how to look innocent when they return after they found out they'd been swindled."

Scarlett's lovely words don't put Mister Oglethorpe at ease; on the contrary, he acts like he's really worried now: "That woman is crazy..."

I decide that, in this situation, overacting is best for him. I take the knife out of my pocket and toss it to Scarlett, while I explain: "There are three types of Bad Cops: Monsters, Maniacs and Maidens. The Monsters are the vampires, the zombies, the invaders from Mars and the Presidents who want to throw all the poor people out of the country, not because they do something wrong, but just because they're poor. Monsters won't scare anyone; they only exist in fiction.