"Tohru" (tohrurokuno)
12/01/2015 at 11:55 • Filed to: None
12
2|
"Tohru" (tohrurokuno)
12/01/2015 at 11:55 • Filed to: None | 12
| 2 |
“Doctor, we’re losing him!” I heard my assistant shout from the other side of the operating theatre. “Not on my Goddamn watch,” I growled. “CRASH CART!” Two orderlies raced over with the cart, then hunkered out of the way timid like mice. It was a Pavlovian response I had worked hard to instill in them, but I had no time to admire it now.
I hooked up leads while the steady hum grew from the charger. “CLEAR!” I hit him with the voltage. His body jumped, but there was no change on the scanner. I cranked the dial higher, sweat running down my brow. “CLEAR!” The body shuddered, but the scanner was still flatline across the screen. I cranked the dial to maximum, and punched the screen when it started flashing some sort of danger message.
“Doctor...”, my assistant began, uncertainly. “Goddamnit, I’ll tell you when I’m done!” I roared. “CLEAR!” Another convulsion, but still flat across the board. He was dead, and nothing that I could do would bring him back. I turned off the charger, and said in a defeated voice, “Time of death... 11:34am.” The orderlies draped a white sheet over the body, as I steeled myself to talk to the widow. In school they said that this is the hardest part of the job, and it never gets any damn easier.
Naturally, she blamed me. She pounded on my chest and cursed my name, with tears streaming down her face. He was her first love, and my words broke her heart. She told me I hadn’t done enough, and in my heart I worried she was right. When she calmed down, we let her into the theatre. She broke down completely when she saw him there covered in a white sheet. She wrapped her arms around him as best she could, and soaked the sheet with her tears as she apologized for everything wrong she’d ever done to him, hoping it would be enough to bring him back. The orderlies led her back out of the room, leaving me alone with the body.
I stared at it for 15 minutes, alone in my thoughts, before I pulled the sheet back and popped the hood. It was her fault, after all. She ran him out of oil, and the old Soviet steel had fused solid into an inert lump. But what could I do? He was an illegal import - a 1995 Lada Niva. Even if I COULD find a motor for him, there’s no way I’d be able to perform the operation without the authorities finding out. There were other ways, sure, but my mind shuddered at the thought of some of the inhumane combinations the Cubans have created.
The concept of inhumane creations stuck in my mind, and uncovered a memory long buried. As a Doctor of Internal Combustion, I was first supposed to do no harm... but there are some cases that call for desperate measures. Warily, I unlocked the bottom-left drawer of my desk and withdrew a small box. I unlocked that as well, revealing a hand-scrawled business card. I picked up my phone, and dialed the number.
15 minutes later, the walls of the building were reverberating in harmonic counterpoint to what my trained ears could tell was a peripheral-ported 6-rotor spinning somewhere north of 11,000rpm. I looked out my window, and saw a gloss-black Toyota Century darting through traffic. It was towing the remains of a U-Haul utility trailer, and inside of that was something black and greasy covered by shreds of a Russian military tarp. Calling in this favor was going to cost me dearly. Better add it to the labor rate.
(With apologies to, and introducing, Seat Safety Switch)
pip bip - choose Corrour
> Tohru
12/02/2015 at 03:24 |
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easy answer , LS swap!
TA4K
> Tohru
12/04/2015 at 18:50 |
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PPRE deals in Russian engines too now? Guess that’s where the 6 rotor went out of the RX3..