The Miracle Cures of Dr. Aira Read Free

reasonable; a theory pointed to a path that was a straight
line, but the realistic man who knew how to live followed one that was
roundabout and had twists and turns . . . each one of these detours away from
the straight path was by nature and intention Evil. It didn’t matter that it was
an attenuated Evil, one without consequences; its essence was still Evil, and it
had to be for the detour to be effective and for realism to be created, and for
reality to be seen through realism, finally, real reality, so distinct from the
pale fantasies of reason . . . Perhaps there, in that eminently benevolent
utility, resided Evil’s purpose.
    An ambulance siren broke through the quiet morning air of
the neighborhood, apparently in a great hurry but also apparently taking a quite
roundabout route, coming and going through those small and empty streets as if
it couldn’t find its way. The physical phenomenon that makes a siren sound
different when it is approaching from when it is departing, even when the
distances are equal, is well known. That difference allowed Dr. Aira to
reconstruct the intricate route the ambulance was taking. This is what he had
been doing for the past few minutes without realizing it, absorbed as he was in
other thoughts and memories; now, with the dog hurling itself at him, he became
alarmed when he realized that the sound, with all its comings and goings, was
drawing a circle that was closing in on him . . . There it was again, that
cursed ambulance, which had been pursuing him in dreams and throughout wakeful
nights, in fantasy and reality, always driving with its siren blasting along the
uncertain edge of two realms! Fortunately, it had never caught up with him. Like
in a nightmare that is never consummated but for that very reason is even more
nightmarish, at the very last minute, just when it was about to catch him, he
would escape through the center of the labyrinth, though he never knew exactly
how . . . That was the moment of extreme danger, with terror ripping through the
seams of reality, when he would transfer that sense of danger to some other
element, as he had just now done with the dog, thereby establishing a continuum
and crossing over that bridge, heading in the opposite direction of that fear .
. .
    The siren’s sudden escalation to ultrasound, combined with
a screech of brakes just inches away, shook him out of his daydream. The scene
plunged into a present where there was no room for thinking. That’s why he
needed a few seconds to realize that the ambulance had found him and that he
didn’t know what to do. The unthinkable had finally occurred. The dog, caught in
the middle of its leap by harmonies only it could hear, did a somersault in the
air, then began racing around in circles.
    He turned, gathering up his scattered dissembling
reflexes, and adopted a casual expression, one of almost indifferent curiosity.
Two young doctors were getting out of the ambulance and starting to walk toward
him (in any case, they were only a step away) with a decisive air, while the
driver, an enormous black man in a nurse’s uniform, got out of the side door and
started walking around the vehicle. He froze, pale and with his mouth dry.
    “Dr. Aira?” said one of the doctors, as if he were
confirming rather than asking.
    He nodded briefly. There was no point in denying it.
He still couldn’t believe that the ambulance, after such a long time, after so
many twists and turns, had actually reached him. But there it was, materialized
and white, so real as to be almost unbearable. And it had lifted him out (the
doctor’s words had proved it) of that urban anonymity where one watches
ambulances drive by . . .
    “We’ve been looking for you for a long time; you can’t
imagine how hard you’ve made it for us.”
    “At your house,” the other said, “they told us you had
gone out for a walk, and we went out to find you . . .”
    The driver joined the group and interrupted, jokingly:
    “No chance in