Number9Dream by David Mitchell Read Free Book Online Page B

is to prove me either a faker or a lunatic, and yet you end up proving my omnipotent divinity.’
    ‘Nothing of the sort has been proven.’
    ‘True, Dr Diehard, true. But fear not, I bear glad tidings. We’re going to change places. You can juggle time, gravity, waves and particles. You can sift through the dreckbin of human endeavour for tiny specks of originality. You can watch the sparrows fall and continents pillaged in your name. Now. I’m going to make your wife smile in a most involuntary way and partake of the chief warden’s brandy.’
    ‘You are a sick man, Mr Voorman. The Belgian trick stymies me, but—’
    Dr Polonski freezes.
    Voorman whistles the national anthem of France.
    The frame jumps.
    ‘Time has flown,’ says the doctor. ‘I must be leaving.’
    The prisoner chokes. ‘What—’
    The doctor flexes his new muscles.
    The prisoner screams. ‘ What have you done to me ?’
    ‘If you can’t discuss things like a rational adult I’ll terminate this interview.’
    ‘ Put me back, you monster !’
    ‘You’ll soon learn the ropes.’ The doctor clips his bag shut. ‘Watch the Balkans. Hot spot.’
    The prisoner bellows. ‘ Guards! Guards !’ The door scrapes open and the doctor shakes his head sadly. Cattle prods buzzing, the guards approach the hysterical prisoner. ‘Arrest that impostor! I’m the real Dr Polonski! He’s an infernal agent who made Belgium disappear overnight!’ The prisoner shrieks and twists as the guards wham 5,000 volts through his body. ‘ Stop that abomination ! He’s going to molest my wife!’ His shackled feet bang the floor. Knock, knock, knock.

    I should have left my blackheads alone – I have the complexion of a winged crab attack victim. Somebody on the outside knocks and turns the toilet door handle. I ruffle back my gelled hair, and fumble the door open. It is Lao Tzu. ‘Took your time in there, Captain.’ I apologize, and decide that the PanOpticon assault hour is nigh. Right after one last Carlton. I watch workmen erect a giant TV screen against the side of PanOpticon’s neighbour. The waitress with the perfect neck has finished her shift – the clock says six minutes to three – and changed out of her uniform. She is wearing a purple sweater and white jeans. She looks drop-dead cool. Dowager is giving her a talking-to over by the cigarette machine when Donkey rings the help-me bell – Dowager drops my waitress in mid-sentence and goes over to bestow order upon the sudden throng of customers. The girl with the perfect neck glances at the clock anxiously. She feels her mobile phone vibrate and turns in my direction to talk, cupping her mouth so nobody can hear. Her face lights up, and I am piqued by jealousy. Before I know it I am choosing another brand of cigarettes from the cigarette machine next to her. Eavesdropping is wrong, but who can blame me if I innocently overhear? ‘Yeah, yeah. Put Nao on, would you?’ Naoki a boy or Naoko a girl? ‘I’ll be a little late, so start without me.’ Start what? ‘Amazing rain, wasn’t it?’ She practises piano movements with her free hand. ‘Yes, I remember how to get there.’ Where? ‘Room 162. I know we only have two weeks left.’ Until what? Then she looks at me and sees me looking at her. I remember I am supposed to be choosing cigarettes and study the range on offer. On an advert a lawyer-type woman smokes Salem. ‘You let your imagination run away with you again. See you in twenty minutes. ’Bye.’ She pockets her phone and clears her throat. ‘Did you catch all of that, or would you like me to go over any bits you missed?’ To my horror I realize she is talking to me. My blush is so hot I smell smoke. I look up at her – I am still crouching to take my Salems from the dispenser. The girl is not angry as such, but she is as tough as a drill-bit. I search for words to defuse her contempt while keeping my dignity intact. I come up with ‘Uh’. Her stare is merciless. ‘ Uh ,’ she