The Polish Program (LSD, #2)

9. It's My Life

It's My Life

Sometimes, you need a terrible plan to invent a terrific plan.

I feel a little worried about the bald man and the man in the tuxedo. I stopped the bleeding with the help of some sanitary towels, kept in place on the forehead of the two victims by several pairs of panties that the women on the street corner supplied. Head wounds always bleed a lot, which is why I look like Dracula's bride when the ambulance shows up. The medics insist that Scarlett and I accompany them to the hospital, which is close to Jungleland, so it saves us a walk (on high heels).

I assure the male nurse there's nothing wrong with me, and the three men are just sleeping, but they don't want to take any risk. They send Scarlett and me to a waiting room.

I can't keep walking around like this: I'm dressed like a woman, I'm covered in blood, and I've lost my left shoe. Walking on high heels is complicated, but walking on one high heel and one flat heel is impossible. I leave the waiting room, looking for a place where doctors keep their white coats. After all of tonight's bad luck, we deserve a little good luck.

The first aid is on the ground floor and that's also where the cleaners keep their outfits. After washing my hands and face, I change my bloody maiden image into a white male, with overalls and wooden slippers. But I'm not done yet. This environment tickles my wildest fantasy. A naughty plan comes up: I want to play doctors with Scarlett. We'll need the real McCoy. Two floors up, I find the launderette with a wide collection of white uniforms. I change again. This time, I become Doctor Alban, complete with the stethoscope and the clipboard. I put Scarlett's outfit in a bag and return to the waiting room.

In the corridor, a confused elderly lady stops me: "Please doctor. I'm in high need. Can you come and help me?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am. There's nothing I can do. You have to be patient."

The lady shouts: "I AM a patient! I need a doctor NOW!"

I take her to the floor nurse and go on; at least my disguise is convincing.

It's late, so all the offices are deserted, which makes my next step a lot easier. I start up a computer, find paper with the official letterhead of the hospital, and write a short, formal letter to a Mister William Oglethorpe, address found in the secret medical files, available for hospital employees only.

«Dear Mister Oglethorpe,

We would like to inform you that the outcome of your latest tests are positive, which means they are negative, which means that you positively DO have the virus, which is rather negative news. The positive news is that your lethal infection can be cured with a legal injection, so we advise you to contact us as soon as possible. You, as a V.I.P. (Virally Infected Patient), can NOT come to the hospital yourself, we are terrified you will infect others, so please call our hotline: <Scarlett's phone number> and we come to you, immediately, to give you the biggest chance of survival.

Yours sincerely,

Doctor Alban

(Head of section contagious diseases, Hospitality Operations Academic Krakow Sanitary)»

The best mouse trap is when the mouse calls you himself to ask you when would be the best time for you to catch him.

I print the letter, put it in an official envelope, even find a stamp (I plan to deliver it myself, tonight, so it won't have the mark from the post office, but I don't think Mister Oglethorpe is a philatelist and will notice the missing detail), I close the office like I found it, and return to Scarlett in the waiting room.