The Place Where

by Rodion Pretis

  “Thank you, sir,” I said. I went to the waiting room and sat away from all the objects that my breasts could turn over. Gladys sent me vicious glances, flat-bending bent over her “early bi-emka” early model and working twice as fast as usual.

  For a while I was already happy that you could just relax. After all these night exercises, I felt terribly tired. The chair was uncomfortable, but my body did not care. Then I began to feel vile. I looked at Gladys. She had untidy hair, forever knocking out from under the hairpins and falling on her face. She cut her nails shortly and never polished them, she dressed casually, and apparently, she didn't give a damn about it. She reminded me of how I myself looked two months earlier, before the men began to be interested in me and give me advice on what to wear and what to do with my hair. Gladys and I no longer went to the cafe together. Now I usually dined with the boss's clients.

  “Why don't you tell the boss too that you have a headache?” I asked. “There is nothing here that could not wait until tomorrow.”

  - Stupid you, he will fire me! I can't shake my feminine charms like you in front of his nose. Mae Joon, you are a liar.

  “I didn't want to deceive anyone,” I said. “I can't do anything about it.” - I looked into her face to see if she remembers how we usually talked at lunch. “Gladys, take a look here.” - I went back to my typewriter and pulled off a cover. Before I could insert paper, my breasts jumped forward and landed on the keyboard. I straightened, leaning further back; Then I tried to print the date in the upper right corner of the page. Pooh Pooh! No chance. I looked at Gladys - her face said: “Wow! Damn, this is terrible! Show me again! ”

  I just opened my mouth to tell her in detail about the insult that Wilma received, and about Charlotte Atlas, when my chest suddenly tightened. I found that I leaned back to put myself in the most advantageous form. One of the boss's clients entered the room.

  - May June, my nymph! - said this guy. His name was Burl Weaver; I once had lunch with him. I kind of liked him.

  Gladys touched the intercom.

  “Sir, Mr. Weaver is for you. ”

  “Oh, Gladys,” said Burl, who was one of the few who had learned her name, not just mine. “Why spoil everything like that?” I didn't come here at all to do business.

  - Burl? Asked the boss's voice on the intercom. - What does he want?

  Burl walked over to my table and pressed a button.

  “Otis, I want to get your secretary from you tonight.” Any objections?

  - What are you, what are you, Burl, no! ..

  Burl is one of our largest customers. We produce plastic for the records that his company produces.

  “May June, be nice there with Burl!”

  Burl pressed the intercom button for me. I leaned as close to the microphone as I could get:

  - Yes sir!

  I got up, feeling a terrible jitters. My previous meeting with Berl went even further than my meeting with Maxwell yesterday. And now, when my breasts claim independence from my body - how can I be sure that I will treat Berl affably? What if, because of me, the company loses its best customer?

  With breasts protruding in front of me, like dogs attacking a track, I left Berl after the office, seizing the moment when I closed the door behind me to throw Gladys a mournful look. She answered me with a pained nod.

  “At least there is at least someone here who is on my side,” I thought, as I went into the elevator with Berl. I tried to cross my arms over my chest, but my chest pushed my hands away. The familiar sense of helplessness that I remember from the time when I had not yet ordered this brochure surged over me. Unless now I no longer felt that my fate lay on the knees of the gods. No - my fate was in the hands of my breasts, and they, apparently, were determined to throw it in the trash.

  Burl waited until the elevator was between the floors, and clicked on the “stop”.

  “Look, Mae Joon - here we are suspended in space,” he said. “Do you think we can shake this coffin so that it falls down?” Want to try? Do you think we will even notice when he hits the bottom?

  With each sentence, he moved closer and closer to me, until in the end it turned out that he was unzipping the back of my dress.

  I smiled at Berl and thought about what was about to happen. I felt like an interested spectator in a sports event. Burl pulled off my dress to the waist.

  “You look great today, May June,” he said, examining me from the front, and then looking at my lips. My breasts politely swayed back, and he looked at them again. “It looks like you have little cars of joy inside,” he said, gently unfastening my bra.

  Cars of stupidity, I thought. “The shock apparatus.”

  “You like me, don't you, May June?” I can be very good. ”He stroked me.

  “Of course I like you, Burl.”

  “Would you like to work for me?” I really like you, May June. I would like to put you in a nice little room on the top floor of a very tall building, with an elevator. - Speaking, he crumpled me like a kitten. - With elevator express. He would only stay on your floor and downstairs. And we could lock it inside. We could ride it. Up - down, up - down. Damn it, we could put a double bed in it! You would love that, right, May June?

  - Yes, Burl.

  When will my mammary glands make their move?

  He bowed his head to unzip his zipper, and then they flashed him.

  - What? He said, leaning back and gracefully sinking to the floor. “K-how the hell did you do that, May June?”

  I decided that Burl had a stronger head than Maxwell.

  “Your hands are completely wrapped in a dress.” Have you studied aikido or anything else?

  - No, Burl.

  “God, yes, if you don't like me, you could just say that!” I would leave you alone.

  “But I like you, Burl!” These are all my breasts. They make their own decisions.

  He lay on the floor, looking down at me.

  “I have never heard anything more stupid in my life!” - he said. He rolled onto his stomach and got to his feet. Then he came up, leaned towards me and stared at my breasts. The left one jerked slightly. He jumped out just in time. “May June, are you obsessed?”

  - That's it!

  It must be so. The devil settled in my breasts. I thought I did this to deserve such a fate. I wasn't even religious!

  Burl crossed my breasts. Nothing has happened.

  “No, there's something else here,” he said. - Maybe this is your subconscious? You secretly hate men. Something like that. But how did it happen that this did not happen the last time, huh? - He began to pace back and forth.

  “They waited until they had enough strength.” Oh Burl, what should I do?

  - Get dressed. I think you need to see a doctor, May June. Maybe they will be able to calm them down with some tranquilizers. I don't like something, how they sit there and look at me.

  I somehow managed to fasten the bra without any problems. Burl zipped my dress and started the elevator again.

  - Are you mad at me? I asked on the way down.

  - That you, of course, are not angry! - he answered, moving away from me one more step. “You are very beautiful, May June.” Once you manage to control yourself, you can become something really important for someone. I just don't want to tempt fate too often. What if this thing that you picked up is contagious? Suddenly, any part of my body decides that she does not like women? Let's look at things reasonably, huh?

  “I want to say ... you won't break off your relationship with IP, right?”

  “Damn it, no, of course!” Are you worried about the interests of the company? It corrects me in women. You have common sense. No, I will not run to complain. But I hope you have a Blue Cross [16]? Or you should show your buffers to a psychoanalyst or to someone else.

  He offered to take me to a doctor or hospital. I said I would ride the bus. He tried to make me change my mind. It didn't work out. I watched him drive away. Then I went home.

  I took my flesh-pink exerci
se machine and brought it to the window. My apartment is located on the tenth floor. I was just about to throw the simulator out the window when I looked down and saw Gladys' red coat. Inside it was Gladys herself. My doorbell rang. I pressed the buzzer, letting it into the building.

  When she got to the door of my apartment, I was already lying on the couch, still holding the simulator in my hands.

  - Open! I shouted in response to her knock on the door. I was lying, and my hands were stretching the simulator. I thought about whether to try to stop the exercise, but decided that it would take too much effort. “How did you know that I'm at home?” I asked Gladys when she entered the apartment and took off her coat.

  - Burl stopped by our office.

  - He said what happened?

  - No. He said he was worried about you. What happened?

  - They beat him. - I earned even more fiercely a simulator. - What should I do? I can't print, and now I can't even make lunch. I stared angrily at my breasts. “Do you want us to die of hunger?”

  They were engaged in push-ups and did not answer.

  Gladys sat in front of me in a chair and leaned forward, her eyes fixed on my newfound characteristics. Her mouth was open.

  My hands stopped working without having to say anything on my part. My left hand held out her exercise machine. Still not looking away from my breasts, Gladys grabbed the flesh-pink exercise machine and set to work.

  “Don't do this,” I said, sitting down. She leaned back in her chair, clearly frightened. “Do you want the same thing to happen to you?”

  “I ... I ...” She swallowed and dropped the simulator.

  “I don't know what they want!” “I looked at them hatefully.” “A little time will pass, and the boss will realize that I am not such a valuable contribution.” And then what will I do?

  “You ... You have many career opportunities,” said Gladys. “For example, have you ever thought about fighting in the mud?”

  - What about?

  - Or about exotic dances? She blinked, licking her upper lip. “I guarantee you could get a job at the FBI.” “My breasts beat enemies for God and the country!” Or you could sell your story to the Inquirer. "Murderous Breasts" - sounds like the name of some detective film of the thirties. Or else you could ...

  “Shut up,” I said. “I can't hear that anymore.”

  “Sorry,” she said after a minute. She got up and poured us tea.

  We sat, sipping tea, when she had a new epiphany.

  “What do they want?” You yourself asked about it. What are breasts for?

  “For sex and for children,” I replied.

  We looked at each other. Then they looked away. During all these lunches, we never talked about this with her. I swear that she, too, knew only what she had read in books.

  She stared at the wicker rug on the floor.

  “Have you ... been protected?”

  I also stared at the floor.

  - I'm afraid not.

  - Now there are tests that can be done at home.

  I decided it was from Berl, so we went with my breasts to visit him.

  “Talk to them,” I said. “If they recognize you as your father, maybe they won't beat you anymore?” Maybe they just dare other applicants?

  An agreement was reached between the three of us. I moved to a new fashionable apartment.

  I shudder at the thought of what they will do when the baby is born.

  Corey Doctorow and Michael Skeet

  I love bet

  Day 1: The night when the light went out in the "Dialton"

  Life in Merry Paris was in full swing when the Libertinians mobilized the trastafar. As for me, I should have foreseen this. In the end, that's what I do.

  I was a joint venture, an old-timer in Paris - even before the Communards erected their barricades and even before the trastafara made “Boul'Disney” [17] their “cooling zone”: an emigrant creaking from antiquity, loving his cafe, his croissant and your morning crossword in the International Times. I loved Paris, I loved the opportunity to remain involved in everything that was happening around me, while continuing to bask in the warm bath of past centuries. I loved this feeling of membership in a special kind of club - we, the joint venture, always managed to look out for each other, always managed to find the time to play baseball in Bois de Boulogne [18] if the weather was fine. Even the Civil War was not able to change this state of affairs, and this I loved in Paris most of all.

  Normalement [19] at a time when there was a raid at the Dialton club, I was already in my bed. But that evening I entertained Sissy, my cousin, who came from Toronto with the intention of having a fun weekend. Sissy wanted to take a look at the famous “Dialton” - and here we are, dressed to the nines (I'm in a crumpled white suit and thoughtfully worn hikings, Sissy in a modern woven dress, a vinyl bolero jacket and a round bowler hat with a feather), slowly moved along the streets paved with epoxy tiles, heading for the "Dialton".

  I tried as best I could: I led Sissy past the memorable arrondissements burrowed with craters [20]; under the echoing bridges across the Seine, where the sounds of distant ricocheting fired from the tile, whistling above our heads; past the eternal flame glowing in the broken window of the Burger King head shop; and eventually led to the Dialton.

  The bouncer that night was Fat Man Eddie. I furtively signaled with his eyebrows, pointing to Sissy, and he caught a hint.

  “Oh, Mr. Rosen, ”he greeted me, pushing the crowd with his fleshy hand,“ what an unexpected pleasure! ” How are you?

  Sissy's eyes shone like the lights on a Christmas tree, and she gripped my elbow tightly.

  - Yes, you know, Edward - everything is still, as always. Every day I'm getting a little poorer, a little older, a little uglier ... I live little by little.

  Fat Man Eddie smiled at Buddha, sweeping my words with an expansive wave of his hand.

  “You only become prettier with age, my friend!” Here is Paris, monsieur, and we deeply honor our aging politicians. But tell me, please, who is this pretty young girl that you brought with you?

  - Sissy Black - Eduard Moreno. Sissy is my cousin, she is not here for long.

  Fatty Eddie took Sissy's hand in his meaty paw and depicted a kiss above her.

  - Very flattered, mademoiselle. If there is anything that we can do for you here at the Dialton Club - anything, please ask without hesitation.

  Sissy, bathed in blinding neon lights, flashed and glanced over her shoulder at the poor plebes [21] crowding behind the velvet rope, waiting for Fat Eddie to descend to notice them.

  “Glad to meet you, Edward,” she said after a little hesitation and kissed him on both cheeks. So usually do trastafara; obviously she just saw it somewhere on TV - but nevertheless she did it bravely, standing on tiptoe. The gesture is completely not in the style of Fat Eddie; but he is a real pro and took it accordingly.

  He opened the door and with a wave of his hand swept it inside. I was a little late.

  - Thanks, Eddie. I am your debtor.

  - You do not think that I was a bit over the edge? He asked, washing off the lipstick from his cheeks with a sanitary napkin. I shrugged.

  - It happens! However, Sissy really impresses.

  - Not that we, uh?

  “Yeah, not that we are.”

  I met Eddie when he played dominos with five frères in Montmartre and won. It could have ended very badly - but fortunately, I knew the commander of these frères and hid the case, and then I took Eddie with me and watered him ouzo [23] in a Greek restaurant that I knew. Since then, he always stood behind me a mountain.

  “Is everything calm today?”

  - Many uniforms, but nothing special. Have fun!

  I went inside and stopped on the doorstep, lighting a smelly “Zhitan” in order to somehow isolate myself from the cloud of perfumery. Sissy nervously waited for me at the entrance, looking around with all my eyes and at the same time trying not to show it. Teenagers, dressed in Trastafarian rags and
hung with lotions, stood out as best they could, scuffling with their signature knitted shoes and tipping stupid cocktails between two dances.

  - Well, what do you think? I shouted into her ear.

  “Lee, it's just super cool here!” She shouted back.

  - Do you want a drink?

  - Come on!

  The bartender was already ready for me, "Manhattan." I raised two fingers, and he quickly built a second for Sissy - with a cherry. I unfolded several ringgit [24] and handed it through the counter. He quickly checked the currency ticker under the counter and poured out a handful of Communard francs with a crash. I pushed them back to him - who could need toy money?