Vitásek has agreed to something again. He's scheduled to make a cameo at the International Drug Congress, fitting the theme. The date is fast approaching, and no idea for a number is in sight. His family is leaving, and nothing would stand in the way of his creative burst, if it weren't for this slight headache and the raised temperature. Stricken with the flu virus, Vitásek sifts through the package inserts of his medications with meticulous detail, misses the good old mercury thermometers that could still be "shaked up," and gives free rein to his fundamental distrust of doctors.

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