Free Dyscountopia by Niccolo Grovinci Page B

bag, sending up a flurry of Styrofoam beads.   “Used to work in Sector 932, Poultry, Delta Quad.   Those people were fuckin’ crazy.   Nothing makes you crazier than poultry, Zim.”   He gestured to the walls around him.   “Of course that’s nothing compared to these sick freaks.   You won’t find a bigger trail-mix of fruits, nuts, and sociopaths than what you get on the roof.   Mostly kleptos, you know, just stealing for the rush.   Won’t admit what they did, even to themselves.   Seriously, ask them, any one of them why they did what they did and you get the same bullshit story – I didn’t steal anything.   I just forgot to pay. ”
    Albert inspected the Doctor curiously.   “So how did you end up here?”
    The Doctor shifted uncomfortably in his seat and mumbled something inaudible. Albert immediately wished that he hadn’t asked the question, and attempted to change the subject.  
    “Have you been practicing medicine long?”
    The Doctor shrugged.   “Whenever I can.   You can’t get better, if you don’t practice.   That’s what I always say.”   He grinned devilishly at Albert, nibbling at his ragged beard.   “But what about you?   You’ve had quite an adventure, haven’t you?   Must have been very traumatizing, psychologically speaking.”
    Albert peered evasively into his plastic cup.   “What do you mean?”
    “Blasting off into space, drifting around for months on end, crash landing on a 50 billion ton slab of cement.   That can be emotionally jarring for anyone, especially after a sudden layoff.   Wanna talk about it?”   The wiry old Doctor studied Albert with twinkling, hopeful eyes.   After years of having nobody to analyze but compulsive shoplifters, he was obviously itching to take a crack at what he’d determined to be a real nut.
    “Umm… I don’t think so.”   Albert eyed the door, overwhelmed by a sudden desire to escape.   “I’m feeling a lot better, now.   I should probably go.”
    “Where to?” asked the Doctor nervously.   He sprang from the bean bag and took a half-step toward the exit, standing between Albert and the shower curtain.   “You said you had a message to deliver, right?”
    Albert stared back at him.
    “From somewhere out there?”   Zayus pointed up through the ceiling.
    Albert didn’t answer.  
    “Oh, come on, Zim!” cried the Doctor.   “What’s the message?   Who’s it for?   What’s going on in that scrambled brain of yours?”
    Albert rose warily to his feet.   “Why do you want to know so badly?”
      “Why?” fumbled the Doctor, searching the walls for an answer.   “Why?   I’ll tell you why.   Because I’m a professional, goddammit, and I took an oath!   And you’ve just been psychologically traumatized.   It’s my duty to help!”  
    “I’m just fine,” Albert protested.   “I don’t need anyone digging around inside my brain, thank you very much.”   He pushed his way to the door.
    “Wait!” Dr. Zayus tackled him, wrapping his arms around Albert and squeezing him.   “I can’t let you go.   I can’t let you go.   Not in your state.   You’re obviously fucked in the head and I took an oath.   A fucking oath – you know what that means?”
    Albert looked slowly up into the Doctor’s desperate eyes and for the first time saw the madness there; the raging fire of a life being wasted to no end, framed by the wild gray smoke of eyebrows in dire need of trimming.   The muscles of his left cheek twitched uncontrollably of their own accord, and Albert wondered if he should be afraid.   He resolved to push the Doctor over and run for his life.   But then Dr. Zayus said something that made him want to stay.
    “I know the way back.”
    “What?”
    “I know the way back.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Dr. Zayus pointed to the floor.   “I can get you back down there.”
    Albert shook his head. “You said there wasn’t a way back.”
    “No I didn’t.
    “Yes you