He had shifty eyes, that Dr. Hirsch. Shifty eyes and a smooth way of talking that made Paul see him as more of a salesman than a medicine man. If it weren’t for the one diploma hanging conspicuously behind him, his office would have been indistinguishable from a marketing intern’s cubicle. The walls were plastered with flashy posters and looped videos exalting the technological breakthroughs now available to the public.
And all of this, at a bargain price.
“Now we come to the part of the conversation where we have to put away the fancy marketing mumbo-jumbo and talk man to man about the reality of this procedure,” said Dr. Hirsch. His face seemed to blank as he adjusted in his chair. “You see, when we advertise for a service such as ours, we inevitably get the rich and powerful Westlaker looking for a way to extend their lives. They arrive in their fancy cars and demand champagne while they use my executive waiting room t...
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