The Eternity Prize - Chapter 21
Death or Cake
JOE
Earth date: May 1, 2080
Biblis Patera Hospital, Colony 5, Mars
His assigned patient was one Roddy MacInnes — shot several times, grazing head wound, no damage to the brain or vital organs.
Joe had put in a call to the floor nurses. With their help, he'd be done in a snap. He readied his robotic assistant, fired up the printer, and analyzed the bloodwork. MacInnes had recently taken a shot of FloridaMan, a psychostimulant that was keeping him in a semi-conscious, agitated state. It would take some powerful analgesics to knock him out.
He recorded the bruises on MacInnes' shoulder. Experience told him those bruises came from firing a p-90 Tommy Gun. A Breivik Boy special. He checked his patient's hands. Char between the thumb and forefinger.
The evidence showed, this man was the assassin. Joe tried to be professional and detached but anger still rose inside him. This wouldn’t do, he had to save this monster's life and he had to do it quickly. For Jamila. He calibrated the Rx printer. Where were those nurses?
MacInnes' eyes flew open. The man was so hopped up, he didn't know where he was. He grabbed Joe’s hand. “That girl … little towelhead — gave me a thousand-yard stare – never seen a kid do that."
The lights of MacInnes’ C-Meter showed, this was a memory. "Commander." The gunman said as his reading veered off onto a new path, to the temporal cortex. A hallucination. MacInnes thought Joe was his boss, so Joe played the part. "Did you shoot her?"
A phlegmy laugh. "Her'n the old man. Pew pew! But somebody warned Hassan. He hauled ass."
Suspicions confirmed. But he still had to try to get back into a surgeon's state of mind.
Unfortunately, being cold and detached led to other thoughts. Other solutions. He reached for his robo-assistant. Entered his calculations. A paperclip nurse floated into his AR view "It looks like you're about to give this patient a large dose of adrenaline." it said. "Do you need help with that?"
With the drugs that were already in MacInnes' system, adrenaline would send him into cardiac arrest. Joe checked the monitor. He had already calculated the dosages for life and death. All he had to do was – choose.
With two swipes, MacInnes was suddenly aware. Eyes filled with fear and hope. A blind trust placed in Joe’s hands.
Joe rushed from scrubs into Jamila’s operating room. Her monitor alarms were screaming, but Broeks, Nat and Taggert stood still, arms at their sides.
Joe switched off the alarms. "The fuck is going on? She’s supposed to be in stasis."
"You can't induce sleep without a heartbeat." Broeks said.
Joe pushed him aside. "I can bring her back."
"You can't."
"I can. She's different. Her brain activity proves ..."
"That delta wave was a remnant ... a glitch." Broeks said. "She's been flatlining ever since."
Joe prepped the IV. "It wasn’t a glitch. I can't explain in detail, but I know ..."
Broeks put a heavy hand on Joe's shoulder. "Joe. You can’t change the laws of physics. The IV won’t work without blood flow. She's gone."
The words slowly sank in. The IV fell from Joe’s hands. Nat, Broeks and Taggert gathered around him. Surrounded by their warmth, he wept.
"What is going on here?" Karman shouted.
Broeks's hand fell from Joe's shoulder. Nat sniffed and slowly walked past Karman. Taggert released the brake on the gurney and wheeled Jamila away.
Karman stood beside Joe. "Henning was right this time. The girl was a Goner."
Joe wiped his eyes. "She could have lived. With M-2."
"Not that again." Karman said.
"Yes. That. She would have lived if it wasn't for you. They all would have lived. Jamila. Granger ..."
"MacInnes?"
Joe walked to the sink and pulled off his gloves. "You only care about the Nazi."
"His wounds were not fatal, but he died on your operating table." Karman said. "What happened?"
Joe squirted soap onto his hands and turned the water up to scalding, hoping pain would be a distraction from the memories – Jamila flatlining. MacInnes's look. A blind trust placed in his hands.
"Joseph. What did you do?"
Joe scrubbed, but pain didn't distract him. It produced an equal and opposite reaction. Something cold-hearted and feral spread through him. Instead of regret, he felt – justified. "It’s the New Wild West." he said, turning the water off. "Frontier justice."
Karman gasped. "Who are you? Who is this man? Are you possessed?"
Good guess.
"This proves what I've been saying." Karman cried "You are not cut out to be a surgeon."
Joe dried his hands. "And you’re not fit to be an administrator. You stole my mail. Redirected urgent messages from Ed Reidel. Now he's dead."
Karman gasped. "I did not. That's a lie." Joe pushed past him and headed to the residents' locker. "Don't walk away from me!"
"Reidel's lab is a biohazard site." Joe shouted, "Maybe he was using your Walking Wounded!"
Karman ran behind him, frantically waving his hands. "Don't say those words."
"Walking. Wounded!" Joe shouted, over and over, as he strode through the Residents' Quarters.
Karman wheezed as he tried to catch up. "Joseph. Stop ... or I will ... revoke your privileges!"
Joe slammed the door in his face.
"Augh!" Karman cried as he banged on the door. "Ungrateful … punk! I shared my profits with you. I came to this damned planet to support you."
Joe opened the door. "You only came here because I'm all you've got."
Karman stumbled back. The undeniable truth. He had no defense or offense.
Or did he? He blinked. The security alarm flashed. "I will tell your probation officer! You know what Human Resources will do to you – the rape, the dissection - for the second offense, it will not be in that order."
Joe didn't think about what to do next, he was already running. "Taggert! Stop him" Karman cried.
With linebacker speed, Taggert tackled Joe and knocked him to the floor. Thick arms crushed his ribs. A hard fist pressed against his windpipe.
"Let me go!" Joe gasped.
Taggert pulled him up but kept his fist at Joe's throat, a millimeter away from a chokehold. The Sturmführer had returned.
In seconds, Joe's misery found an audience. Nurses emerged from the ER. Morgue attendants came up from the basement. Missy and Shiraz arrived, holding hands. Nat stood behind them. Joe slouched into Taggert's grip, his face burning with shame. Nothing draws a crowd like failure.
The security guards gathered behind him — a line of black-helmeted Nazis ready to drag him away. Karman walked up to Joe and put on his good doctor face. "Doctor Roth. You broke your oath to do no harm. In the worst possible way. But despite that, I don't want you to suffer. You can still do the galaxy some good. Just fulfill your contractual obligations."
Joe closed his eyes, remembering MacInnes's last gasp. Jamila’s indicators, flatlining. The feral rage was gone. Guilt flooded into the void.
"I don't understand your reluctance." Karman said, coming closer "Every Friday, I meet with Baloq at Elysium. Mafous' family has built a palace in the sky, with a cornucopia of treats – fresh bread, prime beef, the finest wines, honeyed cakes." he clutched Joe's sweaty hands. "It's not a hard choice. Do you want death – or cake?"
The crowd edged closer, waiting for his answer.
Joe raised his head. "You always said I was suicidal."
"You ... can't mean that." Karman said. But Joe only heard that last gasp. Jamila’s alarms. He'd be hearing that for the rest of his life. Better make it a short one.
"You've lost your mind, it's the only explanation." Karman turned to security. "Take Dr. Roth to holding."
Taggert's grip loosened. He signaled the security crew. All eight of them, black shiny helmets, nodded back. Taggert grinned. It was the first time Joe had ever seen him smile. The Nazi was there all along, only pretending to be friends with the Jew boy. Joe felt the sting of betrayal, but at some level, he knew – he deserved this.
"Hey, Karman!" Taggert said, his voice loud and forceful. Karman turned around. "Fuck you!"
Karman blinked "Pardon me?"
"And fuck Baloq. This isn't Earth, this is Free Mars. We don't kiss Nazi ass."
Nat winked at Joe. "Yeah! Land of the brave. Home of the uninsured."
Karman waved to the Security team. "You people! Do your job. Take him away!"
The security team raised their right hands. With a simultaneous click of leather-gloved fingers, they gave Karman a military-grade Fuck-you.
Karman backed away, his mouth open in shock. "This ... will be noted. I will file a report. There will be repercussions!"
Taggert's heavy arm slid from Joe's chest. He gave Joe a light shove and began to hum. Security, doctors, nurses, students, the cleaning crew smiled and wrapped their arms around each other as Taggert sang "Fu…uck you Kar-man, fu..uck you" to the tune of Kumbaya.
Joe blinked and stood in place.
"What're you waiting for?" Taggert hissed between stanzas. "Run."
But Joe stood, struggling to understand. Taggert didn't want him to die. He'd been holding on to him so the guards would hear his story. And take his side. They were defying Karman as a distraction so he could escape. But – why? He'd just killed a man. He'd failed to save Jamila. He'd broken his oath. He was a murderer who believed he had Godlike powers and used them for ...
Nat poked him in the belly. "Git!"
So he ran — through the swinging doors, past the vacuum vents, past the holo-image of the now-disgraced Boy Genius. Wheezing, he pushed the unguarded entrance door open and stood, enveloped by the souk’s thick air. It reeked of piss, smog, and meat.
He was terrified. He was free.