Никита Т – The visualizer, or the man who alters reality (страница 3)

Several times they had written complaint letters to the local borough administration, and once they had even tried to block the road connecting the new neighborhoods to the city center. Construction continued all the same, and before long a sizeable stretch of their suburban district was fenced off behind a solid three-meter wall, behind which three state-of-the-art six-story buildings were rising, designed to the latest architectural standards.

By the time Vera Ivanovna arrived, the buildings were already finished and fitted out with the most modern medical equipment the domestic market had to offer. A new director had been appointed and a qualified medical staff assembled — people capable of meeting the demands ahead. The clinic had long since opened and was accepting new patients.

Vera Ivanovna looked around. The private medical facility stood near a park zone. It was a well-kept, leafy part of the city. She liked the fact that freshly planted greenery lined the pathways, bringing the surrounding landscape to life and making it more inviting.

Rowan trees had been planted along most of the paths, with young maples, larches, and lindens visible here and there. In the distance a few handsome pines could be made out — survivors of the suburban forest that had stood here until recently, only to be felled without mercy by the construction crews.

The air here was considerably cleaner than in the district where she lived. It was a degree or two cooler than in the city center, but far fresher. The spot was lovely and well-tended. Isaac Moiseevich — the director of the private clinic — must have had connections at City Hall, given that he had managed to build a modern facility in such an outstanding location, next to a metro station, despite the resistance of the local population. These were Vera Ivanovnas thoughts as she approached the gate of the institution that was to become her second home.

Above the locked entrance hung a modern color video intercom, and she pressed the call button. A pleasant male voice asked the purpose of her visit. Vera Ivanovna explained that she had been invited for an interview, and the man asked her to wait a few minutes while Isaac Moiseevich Rabinovich — the clinics director — came down personally to meet her.

The young woman was pleased that the director of the private clinic himself was coming to greet her, rather than some junior member of staff. Evidently he had already made inquiries about her, and Mr. Rabinovich was counting on her becoming his clinics chief medical officer — someone with whom he would be spending a great deal of time. What had become of the previous chief medical officer she did not think to wonder just then. It was not something that concerned her.

Isaac Moiseevich turned out to be a middle-aged man, somewhat shorter than she was. He looked up at the tall, attractive young woman who had come to his clinic in search of work, peering at her through enormous horn-rimmed glasses, and smiled with a childlike, playful grin. The smile was warm and disarming. He tried to be witty, clearly wanting to make a good impression. And although his smile was not entirely genuine, the man as a whole made a favorable impression.

— Allow me to invite you into our humble abode, said Isaac Moiseevich, glancing at the attractive young woman and making a welcoming gesture with his small hands. But first youll need to put on a coat and pull some shoe covers over your footwear — we maintain strict sterile cleanliness throughout.

— I should mention that we are inspected regularly. I have been obliged to hire an entire team of janitors and cleaners who scrub and tidy the hospital grounds from morning to night. We receive foreign visitors from time to time. Our center enjoys serious sponsorship, and we work hard to maintain our standards. The officials who inspect us periodically always speak of the place in glowing terms, though none of them volunteers to become our patients. He paused. We even have a complaints and suggestions book.

— And the complaints in it are far outnumbered by positive reviews.

— Of course, of course, replied Vera Ivanovna, hurrying to pull the coat over her narrow shoulders and reaching for a pair of shoe covers from the pack lying on a small side table beside the door.

— This young lady is with me, Isaac Moiseevich instructed the stern security guard who was standing near the entrance talking into a two-way radio.

Once Vera Ivanovna had passed into the spacious lobby of the hospital, the guard hurried to pull the heavy wooden street door shut behind them. He watched with curiosity as the attractive young woman was personally greeted by Isaac Moiseevich Rabinovich, the clinics director — a rare occurrence. As a rule the director sat in his grand office in the third building and let junior staff or the regular security guards escort visitors to him. He was a rather reserved man with a narrow circle of acquaintances, and he communicated exclusively with people who had caught his interest for one reason or another. Evidently he had good reasons for receiving this particular visitor so graciously.

Isaac Moiseevich glanced once more at Vera Ivanovna and began describing his clinic:

— Our clinic is quite large — it can be compared to a multi-specialty medical center. There are not many facilities of this scale in the world, which is why serious academic circles take a keen interest in our work. That is probably why our physicians are respected in the West and are invited to attend various medical forums and symposia.

— Let me show you around. We have three six-story buildings, all connected to one another at the second-floor level — meaning there is a through corridor on that floor that allows you to move from one building to the next without going outside.

He pointed toward the elevator and pressed the button for the second floor.

— We also have our own landscaped grounds under permanent guard, he continued. Ill show you those a little later.

— The first building houses the registry, the intake wards for new patients, and the consulting rooms for general practitioners. This is where we issue certificates to the public and carry out initial patient assessments. Our clinic serves as a district facility, so anyone who needs documentation for a drivers license or a firearms permit must come to us. The physicians who see walk-in patients are highly experienced — they can identify an unstable individual from just a few words. If that person requires our medical assistance, they are immediately detained and referred to the staff psychologist. If you come to work with us, you too will learn to recognize those who suffer from various mental disorders, he said, looking attentively at his companion.

— On more than one occasion such referrals have led to individuals becoming our permanent patients. And the police have no doubt found themselves short a few serial killers as a result. That is precisely why the authorities pay such close attention to our clinic. No one wants unpleasant surprises, and everyone would prefer to avoid them.

After riding the elevator to the second floor together, the director and the young woman found themselves at the entrance to a long through corridor where a second guard was on duty. The man in a special protective uniform looked sternly at the director — he already knew the physicians were coming up by elevator and did not stop them.

Without a word he opened the turnstile for them using his own smart card. As he did so, the reader played a cheerful little melody from some familiar childrens cartoon.

— Every member of our staff has an identical smart card with a limited access radius, Isaac Moiseevich continued.

It was evident that he had a fondness for digital gadgets: modern color cameras were mounted throughout every floor of the hospital, and the doors were fitted with vandal-proof readers from the NPO Relvest access control and management system.

— If you do not have authorization to enter a particular security zone in any of the three buildings, your personal card will not open the turnstile. Only the chief medical officer and the director have the right to move freely through all three buildings. Other physicians have cards with additional restrictions tied to their professional duties and working hours. If they are not permitted to enter a given building or room, they will not get in, no matter how much they might wish to.

The clinic director then looked carefully at Vera Ivanovna and murmured, just quietly enough that the guards would not hear:

— If you turn out to be a good fit for us, we will make you a card exactly like this one, and you will be able to pass through every turnstile in the building, on whatever floor it may be.

Chapter 2

The sage who speaks of freedom

while in prison — who

counsels all to lose themselves in

wine — Is truly wise: in chains he

still is free, strong as a cliff,

when his soul stays noble.

Kirill had ended up in the psych ward several years ago. He had long since understood that he was born a different kind of child — one who did not quite resemble his peers. After a while his parents noticed it too, unable at first to understand why their son had no interest in playing with children his own age, and why those children ran from him as though from someone carrying the plague.