The Final Circle of Paradise

"I don't want to talk to you, can't you understand? I don't want to talk to anyone about anything. I want to go home.

I won't give you my slug. What am I – a factory? Give it to you and then chase all over town?"

I kept silent. It was clear that he hated me now. That if he thought he had the strength he would kill me and leave. But he knew that he did not have the strength.

"Scum," he said in a fury. "Why can't you buy one yourself? Don't you have the money? Here! Here!" he began to search convulsively in his pockets, throwing coppers and crumpled bills on the table. "Take it, there's plenty."

"Buy what? Where?"

"There's a damned jackass! It's… what is it? Hmm… how do you call it… Oh hell!" he cried. "May you drop straight to hell!"

He stuck his fingers into his shirt pocket and pulled out a flat plastic case. Inside it was a shiny metal tube, similar to a pocket radio local oscillator-mixer subassembly. "Here -

get fat!" He proffered me the tube. It was quite small, less than an inch long and a millimeter thick.

"Thank you," I said. "And how do I use it?"

Peck's eyes opened wide. I think he even smiled.

"Good God!" he said almost tenderly. "Can it be you really don't know?"

"I know nothing," I said.

"Well then, you should have said so from the start. And I thought you were tormenting me like a torturer. You have a radio? Insert it in place of the mixer, hang it, stand it somewhere in the bath, and go to!"

"In the tub?"

"Yes."

"It must be in the bath?"

"But yes! It is absolutely necessary that your body be immersed in water. In hot water. What an ass you are!"

"And how about Devon?"

"The Devon goes in the water. About five tablets in the water and one orally. The taste is awful, but you won't regret it later. And one more thing, be sure to add bath salts to the water. And before you start, have a couple of glasses of something strong. This is required so that… how shall I say? – so you can loosen up, sort of."

"So," I said. "I got it. Now I've got everything." I wrapped the slug in a paper napkin and put it in my pocket. "So it's electric wave psychotechnics?"

"Good Lord, now what do you care about that?"

He was up already, pulling the hood over his head.

"No matter," I said. "How much do I owe you?"

"A trifle, nonsense! Let's go quickly… what the hell are we losing time for?"

We went up into the street.

"You made the right decision," said Peck. What kind of world is this? Are we men in it? Trash is what it is and not a world. Taxi!" he yelled. "Hey, taxi!"

He shook in sudden excitement. "What possessed me to go to that Oasis… Oh no… from now on I'll go nowhere… nowhere."

"Let me have your address," I said.

"What do you want with my address?"

A taxi drew up and Buba tore at the door.

"Address," I said, grabbing him by the shoulder.

"What a dumbhead," said Buba… " Sunshine Street, number eleven… Dumbhead!" he repeated, seating himself.

"I'll come to see you tomorrow."

He paid no more attention to me.

"Sunshine," he threw at the driver. "Through downtown, and hurry, for God's sake."

How simple, I thought, looking after his car. How simple everything turned out to be. And everything fits. The bath and Devon. Also the screaming radios, which irritated us so, and to which we never paid any attention. We simply turned them off. I took a taxi and set out for home.

But what if he deceived me, I thought. Simply wanted to be rid of me sooner. But I would determine that soon enough. He doesn't look like a runner, an agent, at all, I thought. After all, he is Peck. However, no, he is no longer Peck. Poor Peck.

You are no agent, you are simply a victim. You know where to buy this filth, but you are only a victim. I don't want to interrogate Peck, I don't want to shake him down like some punk. True, he is no longer Peck. Nonsense, what does that mean, that he is not Peck. He is Peck, and still I'll have to… Electric wave psychotechnics… But the shivers they're wave psychotechnics too… Somehow, it's a bit too simple. I haven't passed two days here yet, while Rimeyer has been living here since the uprising. We left him behind, and he had gone native and everyone was pleased with him, although in his latest reports he wrote that nothing like what we were looking for existed here. True, he has nervous exhaustion… and Devon on the floor. Also there is Oscar. Further, he did not beg me to leave him be, but simply pointed me in the direction of the Fishers.

I didn't meet anyone either in the front yard or in the hall… It was almost five. I went to my rooms and called Rimeyer. A quiet female voice answered.

"How is the patient?" I asked.

"He is asleep. He shouldn't be disturbed."

"I won't do that. Is he better?"

"I told you he fell asleep. And don't call too often, please. The phone disturbs him."

"You will be with him all the time?"

"Till morning, at least. If you call again, I'll have the phone disconnected."

"Thank you," I said. "Just, please, don't leave him till morning, I'll not trouble you again."