Libertionne. Anna Tishchenko
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