Institute of Psychology
From the author of the hit about the matrix , Andrei Novoselov .
Sergey Petrovich checked the paper and called. The door opened, and a shaggy teenager in a stretched tracksuit peered out onto the landing.
- Hello. Vasya?
')
- Well.
- My name is Sergey Petrovich. I am a psychologist. Your parents asked me . May I come in?
Vasya measured it with a rating glance and stood aside:
- Come on ... Hello.
Removing the jacket, the psychologist estimated the scope of work. So, the pupils are dilated, the reactions are inhibited. Abnormally high gullibility. The behavior is predominantly reactive, the replicas are short. Gamer, no doubt. It seems tame - not one of those who are trying to fly from the rooftops or drive around the city in broken cars.
“I want to talk to you, Vasya,” Sergey Petrovich carefully leaned back in his chair. - Just talk, and only while you agree. As soon as you get bored, say - I'll leave immediately. Do you understand?
- Yeah.
- Wonderful ... To begin with, we will agree on terms. The place we are in is called the “real world”. Heard about this?
- BUT?..
- Not a virtuality. Not a game. Do you understand? - the psychologist rested his gaze on Vasina’s empty, uncomprehending eyes and professionally suppressed a sigh. - Let me explain. Can not be saved here. There is only one life. To heal is difficult and long. Locals can not be killed, but you can agree. That's how you and I are. Clear?
- Ah ... aha. Can I run to the toilet?
- Ah? .. - Sergey Petrovich felt that he was getting used to the image of the interlocutor. - Lets do it. I'll sit here.
“A difficult case,” he thought, laying out in his mind options for further conversation. The symptoms indicated three possible diagnoses, each of which required a special approach. He thought so hard that he didn’t hear quiet steps behind his back and didn’t even turn around when a blow of a heavy stool knocked him out of his chair. Vasya looked puzzled at the floor.
- Well? He asked impatiently, and touched his body with his toe. The psychologist groaned and moved. - BUT! Not finished off! - knowingly smiling, Vasya waved his stool again. Chomped. Vasya tried on for the third strike.
The third time is not required. The corpse blinked on the floor and disappeared, scattering loot around the room: jacket (armor class minus two), indispensable money (two hundred and thirteen dollars), a mobile phone (using the skill yourself is not enough, but you can push the pusher) and the artifact “Pass to the Institute of Psychology” . Vasya triumphantly shoved trophies into the pockets of faded training pants. Thinking, he took a leg from the table from his back pocket and shoved a stool instead.
- And he said - not a game, you can not kill ... They all say that!
Vasya signed up and left the apartment. Institute of Psychology, so ... Come on, we'll see.
Sergey Petrovich checked the paper and called. The door opened, and a shaggy teenager in a stretched tracksuit peered out onto the landing.
- Hello. Vasya?
')
- Well.
- My name is Sergey Petrovich. I am a psychologist. Your parents asked me . May I come in?
Vasya measured it with a rating glance and stood aside:
- Come on ... Hello.
Removing the jacket, the psychologist estimated the scope of work. So, the pupils are dilated, the reactions are inhibited. Abnormally high gullibility. The behavior is predominantly reactive, the replicas are short. Gamer, no doubt. It seems tame - not one of those who are trying to fly from the rooftops or drive around the city in broken cars.
“I want to talk to you, Vasya,” Sergey Petrovich carefully leaned back in his chair. - Just talk, and only while you agree. As soon as you get bored, say - I'll leave immediately. Do you understand?
- Yeah.
- Wonderful ... To begin with, we will agree on terms. The place we are in is called the “real world”. Heard about this?
- BUT?..
- Not a virtuality. Not a game. Do you understand? - the psychologist rested his gaze on Vasina’s empty, uncomprehending eyes and professionally suppressed a sigh. - Let me explain. Can not be saved here. There is only one life. To heal is difficult and long. Locals can not be killed, but you can agree. That's how you and I are. Clear?
- Ah ... aha. Can I run to the toilet?
- Ah? .. - Sergey Petrovich felt that he was getting used to the image of the interlocutor. - Lets do it. I'll sit here.
“A difficult case,” he thought, laying out in his mind options for further conversation. The symptoms indicated three possible diagnoses, each of which required a special approach. He thought so hard that he didn’t hear quiet steps behind his back and didn’t even turn around when a blow of a heavy stool knocked him out of his chair. Vasya looked puzzled at the floor.
- Well? He asked impatiently, and touched his body with his toe. The psychologist groaned and moved. - BUT! Not finished off! - knowingly smiling, Vasya waved his stool again. Chomped. Vasya tried on for the third strike.
The third time is not required. The corpse blinked on the floor and disappeared, scattering loot around the room: jacket (armor class minus two), indispensable money (two hundred and thirteen dollars), a mobile phone (using the skill yourself is not enough, but you can push the pusher) and the artifact “Pass to the Institute of Psychology” . Vasya triumphantly shoved trophies into the pockets of faded training pants. Thinking, he took a leg from the table from his back pocket and shoved a stool instead.
- And he said - not a game, you can not kill ... They all say that!
Vasya signed up and left the apartment. Institute of Psychology, so ... Come on, we'll see.
Source: https://habr.com/ru/post/17306/
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