Driver

Azriel had just pulled onto the central avenue when he noticed a man who literally jumped onto the road, waving his arm energetically. The taxi driver slowed down, and the passenger — a man around thirty with lively, sparkling eyes and a funny pointed beard — slipped into the back seat with such haste, as if someone were chasing him. He wore a slightly wrinkled jacket, an untucked shirt, and various papers and what looked like a rolled-up blueprint stuck out of his briefcase. He was breathing fast, but not from running — more from excitement. “To the research center,” he blurted out, giving the address, and started fidgeting impatiently in his seat. Azriel grunted approvingly and pulled away smoothly. There was something contagious about this passenger’s energy — as if a small but very bright fire was burning inside him. “Do you have some kind of conference there?” the taxi driver asked, glancing at the man in the mirror. “What? No!” the man exclaimed, and his eyes lit up even brighter. “I’m on the verge of a scientific breakthrough! I’ve almost completed my research!” The man spoke with such enthusiasm and inspiration that his words seemed to fill the cab with light. He gesticulated, nearly hitting the window with his elbow, and smiled so widely that his beard stuck out comically to the sides. Azriel couldn’t help but smile back and pressed the gas harder — the car lunged forward, nimbly weaving between the sparse traffic. “And what field is your discovery in?” Azriel asked, turning onto a wider street. “Genetics!” The man said the word as if it alone could explain the full essence and grandeur of the discovery to Azriel. “It’s absolutely brilliant! I’ve created a device that can read the thoughts of any animal!” Azriel paused for a moment. The picture outside the window — gray buildings, wet asphalt, people hurrying about their business — seemed so mundane compared to what this man was talking about. “That’s a really good idea,” he said. “You’ll probably get a Nobel Prize for that.” The man actually jumped in his seat. “I would be thrilled!” he exclaimed, and there wasn’t a trace of doubt in his voice. He could already see himself on the stage, already hear the applause. “This will change everything! We’ll finally understand what animals actually feel, what they think about… It’s an ethical breakthrough!” “And who did you conduct your experiments on?” Azriel asked, smoothly slowing down. “Dogs, hamsters, parrots,” the man listed with businesslike nonchalance, as if talking about choosing groceries at the store. “And what did you do to them?” The question came softly, without judgment. But the man suddenly hesitated. He looked away, adjusted his glasses — which he wasn’t wearing — a gesture of someone trying to buy time. “Well… I don’t like remembering it,” he admitted, and for the first time, something like discomfort flickered in his voice. “The animals sat for many hours with devices on their heads. And some… some had to have their skulls opened.” Azriel slowly began turning in the opposite direction. The car traced a smooth arc, and the city lights drifted the other way. The man didn’t notice — he was too absorbed in his own thoughts. “Weren’t you ashamed?” Azriel asked, and a barely perceptible coolness entered his voice. “A little,” the scientist admitted, shrugging. “But the main thing is that the experiments were successful, and we were able to calibrate the device.” “What do animals think about?” Azriel asked, whether genuinely curious or wanting to steer the conversation in a new direction. The man perked up — the technical side of things was clearly more familiar territory for him. “Nothing special,” he said, almost disappointed. “Everything is commensurate with their level of intelligence. Hamsters, for example, mostly think about food. Dogs think about their owners, about playing… No metaphysics, no philosophy.” “Interesting,” Azriel drawled. And then he asked, his voice quieter: “How many animals did you kill?” The scientist flinched. For the first time during the whole ride, his lively, sparkling gaze dimmed. “I repeat, it was very unpleasant,” he said, but continued, as if justifying himself: “About a hundred animals died. Another hundred or so are in a severe, one might say anomalous, condition.” “That’s terrible!” Azriel said, and for the first time, his voice carried not hidden judgment, but open, genuine pain. “It’s acceptable,” the scientist objected, and confidence returned to his voice — the same confidence from the beginning of the ride. “Especially since this is a scientific breakthrough. It was worth the sacrifice.” He said it firmly, without a shadow of doubt. And in that firmness, there was something frightening — not even cruelty, but a complete lack of connection between the abstract “scientific breakthrough” and the living creatures that paid for it with their lives. Azriel stopped the car by a tall building of glass and concrete. A strict sign with the name of the research center hung on the facade; people in white coats holding tablets stood at the entrance. “Well, here we are,” Azriel said. “Good luck to you. I hope you get that Nobel Prize after all.” The scientist tossed several bills onto the front seat without even counting them, jumped out of the car, and headed toward the glass doors with a fast, almost running stride. His beard bounced comically as he moved, his briefcase slapped against his thigh — he was in a hurry, hurrying toward his breakthrough, toward his glory. Azriel watched him go for a long time. Then he shifted his gaze to the center’s building — huge, cold, like a glass coffin. Somewhere in there, in the labs, stood devices that could read thoughts. Somewhere in there lay hundreds of small bodies.