Institute of Psychology

    From the author of the hit about the matrix , Andrey Novosyolov .

    Sergey Petrovich checked a piece of 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 to. May I come in?

    Vasya measured him with an appraising gaze and

    stepped aside : - Come in ... Hello.

    Taking off his jacket, the psychologist estimated the front of the work. So, the pupils are dilated, the reactions are inhibited. Abnormally high credulity. The behavior is predominantly reactive, the replicas are short. Gamer, no doubt. It seems that the quiet one is not one of those who try to fly from the roofs or drive around the city in broken cars.

    “I want to talk with you, Vasya,” Sergei Petrovich carefully leaned back in his chair. - Only talk, and only while you agree. As soon as you get tired, say - I'll leave right away. Do you understand?

    - Yeah.

    - Great ... For a start, we’ll agree on the terms. The place we are in is called the “real world”. Have you heard about this?

    - Ah? ..

    - Not virtuality. Not a game. Do you understand? - the psychologist fixed his eyes on the empty eyes of Vasya, who did not understand, and professionally suppressed a sigh. - Let’s explain. You cannot save here. There is only one life. It is difficult and long to be treated. You cannot kill locals, but you can agree. That's how you and I are. Clear?

    - Ah ... Yeah. 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 options for further conversation in his mind. Symptoms indicated three probable diagnoses, each of which required a special approach. He thought so hard that he did not hear quiet steps behind him and did not even turn around when a blow from a heavy stool knocked him off the chair. Vasya looked perplexedly at the floor.

    - Well? He asked impatiently and touched the body with his toe. The psychologist groaned and moved. - A! Not finished off! - with a knowing smile, Vasya waved the stool again. Champed. Vasya tried on for the third blow.

    A third time was not required. The corpse blinked on the floor and disappeared, scattering the booty around the room: a jacket (armor class minus two), indispensable money (two hundred and thirteen dollars), a mobile phone (you can’t use the skill yourself, but you can push the huckster) and the artifact “Pass to the Institute of Psychology” . Vasya triumphantly shoved the trophies into the pockets of his molted sweatpants. Thinking, he took out a leg from the table from the back pocket and stuffed a stool instead.

    - And he said - not a game, you can’t kill ... They all say that!

    Vasya signed up and left the apartment. Institute of Psychology, then ... Come, see.

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