Standing at the doorway of his waiting room, Niian watched with an amused look at the trio who, in the corner of the room, were constantly bickering. No one dared approach their space and the patients, still convinced they were waiting for an appointment with a doctor, were content to glare at them with disapproving looks; a ridiculous gesture that hardly drew the attention of their noisy neighbours. One of them, a tall ascetic fellow dressed in military fatigues too large for him, was seated on the ground, busy stacking coloured cubes whistling the tune of a famous bawdy song. His work was regularly destroyed by his neighbour, a man with a very aristocratic moustache, sitting on a yellow plastic chair with a fashion magazine from the fifties in his hand. The cube enthusiast complained, cu
