Conversation · Alice

Of course, yes. You were having health trouble.

"You know who I am?"

"Yes, there's no end to the misfortunes fate has seen fit to rain upon me."

"Sure, sure -- but can you tell me about myself? As in, who I am?"

"Who you are? You lost your human visage a while back. Now let's get on with it -- I've got more important things to do."

"I don't know anything about fate. I just wanted to talk about a medical issue."

"Then let's get on with it. Clock is ticking."

"I'm sorry I've been such a bother to you..."

"Oh, spare me the sad drunken blubbering and get on with it. What's your complaint?"

"Good fortune, you mean good fortune, right? You're basking in the floodlight of my glory."

"Basking in your glory, yeah. Practically drowning in it. Please, tell me what your complaint is before I am completely submerged."

"Yes, we live in difficult times. But at least it's over. Almost over, that is..."

"For you it probably is. I'm counting on my lungs outliving your liver by a wide margin." He pauses. "Not that that's anything to fête."

Was he speaking about his longer life or your shorter one when he said it was no cause for celebration?

A bit of both. But don't flatter yourself -- he's not sorry for you.

Don't flatter yourself -- he's not going to miss you.

"Isn't there anything you can do for me?"

"What, you want me to do blood work for you again, tell you just how bad things really are across the board? You want another rundown of everything collapsing inside your body?"

"Yes. I want the truth!"

"You want the real, honest-to-god truth? Stop drinking, eat magnesium and vitamin D. Our station is not a retirement home. We don't have the funds to deal with rock stars past their prime."

So it's political! You're being neglected because of political reasons...

The money is probably going to some old, oily...

"And no, I don't want to hear a political commentary on the topic. In fact -- I've got work to do. Some idiot has glued his eyelids shut with Cyanoacrylate. It looks like Mack Torson."

"It's not fucking cryo-actilate... it's super glue, doc."

Cyanoacrylate is super glue.

"I see your point. Might as well just get back to work."

"Do that. I need to go. Some idiot has glued his eyelids shut with Cyanoacrylate. It looks like Mack Torson, but it's hard to say because his eyes are swollen..."

"No, that doesn't sound like something I can handle right now..."

"I've been bad and I want someone to abuse me."

"Oh, it's you. I know a woman skilled at that sort of thing over in Jamrock... but I wouldn't want to inflict you upon her. Best of luck, detective."

"I've lost my memory. All of it."

"With all the damage you've been dealing yourself with drugs and alcohol, I'm not surprised."

There is no surprise in his voice. Only careless superiority.

"You're not surprised? Okay. Anything else?"

"What else? I'm not a brain doctor. Look on the bright side -- you've got a whole new life now. Use it wisely."

It's hard to say if he doesn't believe you -- or doesn't care.

"And then that motherfucker Gottlieb -- reeking of schnapps -- ordered me into his butcher's room..." Officer Fischer is in a storytelling mood -- he continues: "And I ask him, 'You sure, doc?' and he's cool as can be, 'Yeah, if you're in pain, we've gotta get that baby out...'"

"...and so he removed my appendix on the spot, while the party was still on in the other room. And I was delirious with pain and all the schnapps I'd had, but I remember thinking -- man, that Gottlieb can stitch..."

"Only a month later, when I got a chance to properly thank him, did I find out that he had no recollection of the event -- that's Gottlieb for ya. In league with some devil, he is, I'm sure of it. Cheers!" The clinking of beer glasses is drowned in group conversation...

"I think I've had a heart attack..."

"And you survived it! Congratulations. Are you mobile?"

Sort of. But by god does it burn in your chest...

"Yes..."

"Even better! Anything else? I wouldn't worry about that. Officers your age have coronary trouble all the time. Also -- death is a natural part of life."

Accept it. The body is an object and objects break down. Do what good you can with yours, before the rest goes too.

"How did you know it was me?"

"Didn't. But now I do. How's the drinking going?"

"It's going great! I feel like it's really helping me with this case!"

"Great. Have a medal. I have an autopsy to attend to. An autopsy of one Chester McLaine, who died of fish poisoning."

"Fucking... I'm not dead, it just hurts, okay?"

"I decided to stop. Completely. Forever."

"Great to hear it. Stop by some time when you're done with your case -- I'll draw some blood, run it through -- let you know how much 'forever' your liver's going to give you."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Great. I have an autopsy to attend to. An autopsy of one Chester McLaine, who died of fish poisoning."

"I'm trying really, really hard not to."

"Doc, someone broke my heart."

"I think I've developed extreme photosensitivity..."

"That's because you're hungover -- even the radio waves coming from your direction smell like liquor." He pauses. "Do you feel like your eyes are twitching too?"

(Lie.) "No."

"Good. It would be an awful nuisance if your experiments with your blood pressure were to cause permanent damage to your vision. A nuisance to you, that is."