Dental Work
“Open wide, wider… Good… ok and here we go…”
BRZZZZZZZZZZZ!
“Guurgl…”
“Soon done, I know it hurts.”
“…uurgl aah ou ou…”
“There, and now rinse and spit.”
The clock on the wall showed 4.30 p.m. and it was soon over. Dr Hugh Payns doubled checked the time with his own gold watch and then watched how his patient spat out a mixture of saliva and blood. In his mind he saw the spit as his own and the bowl it fell into as his job. It is clear to say that he hated it. Or he found it boring at the least. He had been a dentist one decade too many. Maybe soon it was time to switch profession?
“That went quick and easy didn’t it.”
“Am I done?” asked the nervy patient.
“I’m just going to polish it and then you are. And don’t worry this part doesn’t hurt, but it might tingle a bit.”
“Ok.”
“Thank you Mr. Andersen, see you in two weeks.”
“Yes, thank you. Bye.”
Done!
Finally…
But he heard light footsteps approaching and suddenly his secretary popped her head in the doorway.
“Dr Payns, your five ‘o clock is here.”
“Good. Show him in,” he replied and smiled. Not within. Damn it, he had forgotten Thursdays he finished at six. One more mouth to peer into, one more gaping hole to face. An eternal abyss of sugar abused teeth and bad breath. His job actually made him sick.
The five ‘o clock, a quite chubby Mr. Drew Howarth, came in and went straight to the feared dentist chair and sat down.
“What seems to be the problem Mr. Howarth?”
“Well I got this a here pain in me back tooth,” he said pointing with his fat index finger into his mouth.
“Ok let’s have a look.”
Dr Payns peered into Mr. Howarth mouth and found, behind the two molars in the upper left side, a very dirty and rotten wisdom tooth. It looked like it had been soaking in sugar for the past two three years.
“Do you drink a lot of soft drinks?”
“Yes, I’m quite addicted.”
“I can tell, does this hurt?” Payns asked and scraped the tooth with his probe.
“Aah, yes yes!”
“What…” and he fell silent.
“What?” repeated Howarth.
Payns noticed he had managed to scrape off, by mistake, a layer of the tooth that wasn’t as hard as he had expected. Beneath it, in a brownish mass, he noticed a little microchip.
“I mean how long have you been in pain?”
“For a week or so.”
Payns didn’t want to tell his patient about the discovery, and he was sure that he didn’t know about it either. It was most peculiar and extremely interesting. Almost exiting. No, it was definitely exiting. A microchip! How had it got there? Who had planted it?
“Have you had this wisdom tooth mended before?”
“Yes, a year ago.”
“By who?”
“By my old dentist where I used to live on the other side of the city. Doctor Cray, eh Dr Robert Craon was his name. Yes. Bob he called himself.”
Payns had never heard of him, but he would be easy to find through the Dentist Association. And he would find him and ask…
Ask what the hell he had put in there? Because who else could it be? Payns was not one who believed in alien abductions or governmental conspiracies. In fact he laughed at the very idea. But what should he do now? Take the chip out? It would be easy loose as it seemed. Yes, take it out and have it examined.
“I am just going to clean it out a bit,” Payns told his patient and grabbed a tweezer and easily plucked the chip out of his mouth placing it on a tray next to him. Then he turned to his patient again.
“I will have you x-rayed and then we’ll set up a new appointment for pulling that tooth out. You don’t need it and it is in too bad a shape to be worth saving. Pulling it out will also cost less than fixing it.”
“Whatever you recommend.”
The office was closed.
Dr Hugh Payns was still around. All was silent and dark, except for his desk lamp, which shone down unto a little microchip. Payns studied it with a magnifying glass. It looked very complex and high tech.
I wonder what it is for?
On closer inspection he could see a tiny inscription on the back of it, but it was hard to read.
“UCCP… no UCCH Ltd,” Payns said aloud, “what the hell is that?”
He flicked on his computer and went out on the Internet to find the phone number to Dr Robert Crayon. Once he had located it he tapped in the digits on his phone. After two signals an old mans voice answered.
“Yes Crayon here.”
“Hello, my name is Dr Hugh Payns and I am calling you about one of your former patients…”
“I’m off duty.”
“I figured you’d be, but this is really important.”
“Spill it.”
“Well it concerns a Mr. Drew Howarth…”
“Wait,” Dr Crayon said and disappeared only to return a few seconds later, “yes what is your questions?”
“Well I have found something interesting in his wisdom tooth.”
“What?”
“A microchip of some sort and I was wondering if you knew anything about this since he, Mr. Howarth, was a former patient of yours?”
“No, I don’t have the faintest idea of what you are talking about. I don’t have time to talk anymore, good night!”
Click!
He’d hung up. Payns sat stupidly with the phone still to his ear as if he was disbelieving what had happened, but there was no question about it. The doctor had been lying and he knew that Payns knew. It was obvious.
With a newfound paranoia he closed down and went home to sleep it off. If luck would have it the whole matter would be forgotten by the arrival of the morning.
No sooner had Dr Hugh Payns stepped into his office before a man came knocking. It was Dr Crayon and he seemed nervous and agitated.
“Dr Payns, I urge you to drop this matter.”
Payns laughed and sat down behind his desk.
“I was about to but now with you here I am not so sure anymore. It seems my phone call disturbed you. Tell me why?”
Dr Crayon closed the door and walked up to Payns.
“It is very dangerous. I cannot stress that fact enough.”
“Why?”
“I pulled out. I don’t want any part of it anymore.”
“A part of what?”
“You are ignorant. Maybe that is good. Leave this matter alone.”
“But by you coming here you’ve made me even more curious.”
“Hugh, leave this matter alone for your own sake!”
Dr Crayon left as sudden as he had come. Payns leaned back in his chair. From a drawer in his desk he retrieved the microchip and studied it. The abbreviation, UCCH, could solve the puzzle if he could crack it. He turned on his computer and began searching the Internet for a clue but came up with nothing. After a while his first patient of the day arrived and he had to do some ‘real’ work.
A few weeks passed and the paranoia subsided and was replaced by the trivial everyday life. This did not please Payns who had liked the change of pace his existence had taken. For a moment he had begun to enjoy living and working again secretly wishing to stumble on to more microchips, but he didn’t and the daily rut of working, eating and sleeping took over.
Finally the whole thing was forgotten. He even misplaced the microchip he had found, lost amongst papers, pens and other junk in his desk drawers. And then he received a letter.
It came from the Dental Association’s Brotherhood Department, of which he was a passive member, inviting him to a meeting with ‘financial’ benefits. The Brotherhood had merely been a fraternal organization he had joined while in school learning the trade of a dentist and they mainly concentrated on having parties and raising money for various charitable projects. Later in life he understood that the organization was also very influential in the dentist circuits and had good connections with other businesses such as insurance companies, but also chewing gum manufacturers and soft drink companies.
The letter didn’t stir much suspicion in him and he did not connect it with the previous event of the microship, of which he had been a part, but it troubled him and to settle the matter he decided to accept the invitation.
“Dr Payns. Thank you for coming,” greeted Head Brother Barres shaking his hand. They both sat down and after some polite everyday chatter Barres introduced a man in a well fitted suit that unexpectedly entered the room.
“This is Mr. Urban and he has a proposition to make to you.”
“Hello,” Payns greeted but they did not shake hands and this Mr. Urban sat down on a chair next to Barres placing is briefcase in his lap.
“Before we begin,” Barres began, “I must have you sign a confidentiality agreement that will guarantee nothing of what is said in this meeting leaves this room whether or not you decide to agree to our proposition or not. If you break this agreement you will be disbarred from the Dental Association and the Brotherhood. Also if you do not want to sign it then the meeting ends here and we will talk no further. What is your decision?”
“I’ll sign,” Payns said with a secret urge to know what they would tell him.
Mr. Urban opened his briefcase and presented a contract and to Payns astonishment he noticed that it contained at the bottom, amongst the ‘fine print’, the letters UCCH. Not only that, in brackets, the abbreviation was explained to stand for the United Corporate Consumer Habits Ltd.
Weeks later Payns had Mr. Drew Howarth in his chair.
He had long since pulled out Mr. Howarth’s rotting wisdom tooth but was now performing a root canal on the molar tooth that had been sitting next to it. Payns had told his patient that it needed to be mended now or it would cause him great pain later.
At the moment Mr. Howarth was unable to speak having been given such a large dose of anesthetics and the lamp that was shining straight into his face forced him to close his eyes, leaving Payns to do the task he had been ordered to do, which was to implant a fresh new microchip that would replace the old one.
For this simple assignment, and for all the others of the same kind he had performed, he received a substantial financial compensation in the form of a higher salary, a better retirement plan and several thousands put into a foreign bank account.
Payns life had turned to the better. He no longer felt bored, but exited and exhilarated. He was after all helping the many food corporations, part of the U.C.C.H, to learn more about their consumers eating habits - of which the results were used to aid in future marketing campaigns.
13 - 22 September 2004
BRZZZZZZZZZZZ!
“Guurgl…”
“Soon done, I know it hurts.”
“…uurgl aah ou ou…”
“There, and now rinse and spit.”
The clock on the wall showed 4.30 p.m. and it was soon over. Dr Hugh Payns doubled checked the time with his own gold watch and then watched how his patient spat out a mixture of saliva and blood. In his mind he saw the spit as his own and the bowl it fell into as his job. It is clear to say that he hated it. Or he found it boring at the least. He had been a dentist one decade too many. Maybe soon it was time to switch profession?
“That went quick and easy didn’t it.”
“Am I done?” asked the nervy patient.
“I’m just going to polish it and then you are. And don’t worry this part doesn’t hurt, but it might tingle a bit.”
“Ok.”
“Thank you Mr. Andersen, see you in two weeks.”
“Yes, thank you. Bye.”
Done!
Finally…
But he heard light footsteps approaching and suddenly his secretary popped her head in the doorway.
“Dr Payns, your five ‘o clock is here.”
“Good. Show him in,” he replied and smiled. Not within. Damn it, he had forgotten Thursdays he finished at six. One more mouth to peer into, one more gaping hole to face. An eternal abyss of sugar abused teeth and bad breath. His job actually made him sick.
The five ‘o clock, a quite chubby Mr. Drew Howarth, came in and went straight to the feared dentist chair and sat down.
“What seems to be the problem Mr. Howarth?”
“Well I got this a here pain in me back tooth,” he said pointing with his fat index finger into his mouth.
“Ok let’s have a look.”
Dr Payns peered into Mr. Howarth mouth and found, behind the two molars in the upper left side, a very dirty and rotten wisdom tooth. It looked like it had been soaking in sugar for the past two three years.
“Do you drink a lot of soft drinks?”
“Yes, I’m quite addicted.”
“I can tell, does this hurt?” Payns asked and scraped the tooth with his probe.
“Aah, yes yes!”
“What…” and he fell silent.
“What?” repeated Howarth.
Payns noticed he had managed to scrape off, by mistake, a layer of the tooth that wasn’t as hard as he had expected. Beneath it, in a brownish mass, he noticed a little microchip.
“I mean how long have you been in pain?”
“For a week or so.”
Payns didn’t want to tell his patient about the discovery, and he was sure that he didn’t know about it either. It was most peculiar and extremely interesting. Almost exiting. No, it was definitely exiting. A microchip! How had it got there? Who had planted it?
“Have you had this wisdom tooth mended before?”
“Yes, a year ago.”
“By who?”
“By my old dentist where I used to live on the other side of the city. Doctor Cray, eh Dr Robert Craon was his name. Yes. Bob he called himself.”
Payns had never heard of him, but he would be easy to find through the Dentist Association. And he would find him and ask…
Ask what the hell he had put in there? Because who else could it be? Payns was not one who believed in alien abductions or governmental conspiracies. In fact he laughed at the very idea. But what should he do now? Take the chip out? It would be easy loose as it seemed. Yes, take it out and have it examined.
“I am just going to clean it out a bit,” Payns told his patient and grabbed a tweezer and easily plucked the chip out of his mouth placing it on a tray next to him. Then he turned to his patient again.
“I will have you x-rayed and then we’ll set up a new appointment for pulling that tooth out. You don’t need it and it is in too bad a shape to be worth saving. Pulling it out will also cost less than fixing it.”
“Whatever you recommend.”
The office was closed.
Dr Hugh Payns was still around. All was silent and dark, except for his desk lamp, which shone down unto a little microchip. Payns studied it with a magnifying glass. It looked very complex and high tech.
I wonder what it is for?
On closer inspection he could see a tiny inscription on the back of it, but it was hard to read.
“UCCP… no UCCH Ltd,” Payns said aloud, “what the hell is that?”
He flicked on his computer and went out on the Internet to find the phone number to Dr Robert Crayon. Once he had located it he tapped in the digits on his phone. After two signals an old mans voice answered.
“Yes Crayon here.”
“Hello, my name is Dr Hugh Payns and I am calling you about one of your former patients…”
“I’m off duty.”
“I figured you’d be, but this is really important.”
“Spill it.”
“Well it concerns a Mr. Drew Howarth…”
“Wait,” Dr Crayon said and disappeared only to return a few seconds later, “yes what is your questions?”
“Well I have found something interesting in his wisdom tooth.”
“What?”
“A microchip of some sort and I was wondering if you knew anything about this since he, Mr. Howarth, was a former patient of yours?”
“No, I don’t have the faintest idea of what you are talking about. I don’t have time to talk anymore, good night!”
Click!
He’d hung up. Payns sat stupidly with the phone still to his ear as if he was disbelieving what had happened, but there was no question about it. The doctor had been lying and he knew that Payns knew. It was obvious.
With a newfound paranoia he closed down and went home to sleep it off. If luck would have it the whole matter would be forgotten by the arrival of the morning.
No sooner had Dr Hugh Payns stepped into his office before a man came knocking. It was Dr Crayon and he seemed nervous and agitated.
“Dr Payns, I urge you to drop this matter.”
Payns laughed and sat down behind his desk.
“I was about to but now with you here I am not so sure anymore. It seems my phone call disturbed you. Tell me why?”
Dr Crayon closed the door and walked up to Payns.
“It is very dangerous. I cannot stress that fact enough.”
“Why?”
“I pulled out. I don’t want any part of it anymore.”
“A part of what?”
“You are ignorant. Maybe that is good. Leave this matter alone.”
“But by you coming here you’ve made me even more curious.”
“Hugh, leave this matter alone for your own sake!”
Dr Crayon left as sudden as he had come. Payns leaned back in his chair. From a drawer in his desk he retrieved the microchip and studied it. The abbreviation, UCCH, could solve the puzzle if he could crack it. He turned on his computer and began searching the Internet for a clue but came up with nothing. After a while his first patient of the day arrived and he had to do some ‘real’ work.
A few weeks passed and the paranoia subsided and was replaced by the trivial everyday life. This did not please Payns who had liked the change of pace his existence had taken. For a moment he had begun to enjoy living and working again secretly wishing to stumble on to more microchips, but he didn’t and the daily rut of working, eating and sleeping took over.
Finally the whole thing was forgotten. He even misplaced the microchip he had found, lost amongst papers, pens and other junk in his desk drawers. And then he received a letter.
It came from the Dental Association’s Brotherhood Department, of which he was a passive member, inviting him to a meeting with ‘financial’ benefits. The Brotherhood had merely been a fraternal organization he had joined while in school learning the trade of a dentist and they mainly concentrated on having parties and raising money for various charitable projects. Later in life he understood that the organization was also very influential in the dentist circuits and had good connections with other businesses such as insurance companies, but also chewing gum manufacturers and soft drink companies.
The letter didn’t stir much suspicion in him and he did not connect it with the previous event of the microship, of which he had been a part, but it troubled him and to settle the matter he decided to accept the invitation.
“Dr Payns. Thank you for coming,” greeted Head Brother Barres shaking his hand. They both sat down and after some polite everyday chatter Barres introduced a man in a well fitted suit that unexpectedly entered the room.
“This is Mr. Urban and he has a proposition to make to you.”
“Hello,” Payns greeted but they did not shake hands and this Mr. Urban sat down on a chair next to Barres placing is briefcase in his lap.
“Before we begin,” Barres began, “I must have you sign a confidentiality agreement that will guarantee nothing of what is said in this meeting leaves this room whether or not you decide to agree to our proposition or not. If you break this agreement you will be disbarred from the Dental Association and the Brotherhood. Also if you do not want to sign it then the meeting ends here and we will talk no further. What is your decision?”
“I’ll sign,” Payns said with a secret urge to know what they would tell him.
Mr. Urban opened his briefcase and presented a contract and to Payns astonishment he noticed that it contained at the bottom, amongst the ‘fine print’, the letters UCCH. Not only that, in brackets, the abbreviation was explained to stand for the United Corporate Consumer Habits Ltd.
Weeks later Payns had Mr. Drew Howarth in his chair.
He had long since pulled out Mr. Howarth’s rotting wisdom tooth but was now performing a root canal on the molar tooth that had been sitting next to it. Payns had told his patient that it needed to be mended now or it would cause him great pain later.
At the moment Mr. Howarth was unable to speak having been given such a large dose of anesthetics and the lamp that was shining straight into his face forced him to close his eyes, leaving Payns to do the task he had been ordered to do, which was to implant a fresh new microchip that would replace the old one.
For this simple assignment, and for all the others of the same kind he had performed, he received a substantial financial compensation in the form of a higher salary, a better retirement plan and several thousands put into a foreign bank account.
Payns life had turned to the better. He no longer felt bored, but exited and exhilarated. He was after all helping the many food corporations, part of the U.C.C.H, to learn more about their consumers eating habits - of which the results were used to aid in future marketing campaigns.
13 - 22 September 2004
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