Inherent Cost

by Alicia Cameron

  The crowd listened, attentive. The fact that his clinic had been running on “emergencies only” for the past two days already had their attention. “As many of you know, the state agency has revoked my ability to treat slaves at my clinic—but it has not revoked my ability to treat free people. However, this places everyone at increased risk. To ensure safety, there will be additional screening procedures for all patients. The current partial closure is a safety precaution as I review the best treatment methods for a epidemic. When I reopen on a full-time basis, I will have established a quarantine area and a new set of safety precautions. I, or my assistant, will be taking information about your travel history, the slaves you own, and any symptoms. Everyone will be subject to additional health screenings. Those of you who have untreated slaves, or who have traveled recently may be quarantined away from the other patients. Unfortunately, this will take considerably more time and resources.”

  “Any healer can provide good enough treatment for a slave!” one of the members of the Human Veterinary Association called out. “We can stop disease just perfectly.”

  Jere set his jaw. “Medical research has proven otherwise. I’d be happy to provide you with some of that research. But I am not just standing here as a medical professional. I am standing united with you as a slaveowner and a business owner.”

  Jere looked down at his note cards for a moment, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall at the thought of Wren. “Half of my business has been shut down. My slave was seized yesterday, through no fault of my own. Nobody has told me any specific crime, or timeframe in which I can expect him back or any details other than that he’s being ‘evaluated.’ I know many of you spend significant amounts of money on your slaves, and for good reason—they are valuable assets. The current regulatory agency, however, feels it is their right to seize these assets, at any time, without documentation or warning. Even if you don’t care about healthcare, do you care about your property and privacy?”

  Even the dissenters went quiet at this, looking outraged.

  “They can’t just take our slaves!” someone protested.

  “That’s private property!” another agreed.

  “They absolutely can,” Jere said quietly. “The Slavery Reform Act includes significant protections for slaveowners as well. The restructuring of the current Slave Control, Regulation, and Enforcement agency into the Slave Regulation Board will include a number of new protections for slaveowners, one of which includes an immediate halt on unreasonable or warrantless investigations. Each citizen is responsible for taking the appropriate care of their slaves, and The Slavery Reform Act is designed to increase participation and assistance in complying with new regulations. It isn’t trying to stop slavery, it’s trying to save our system.”

  “What do you get out of this?” someone challenged.

  Jere laughed, a cruel sound that was so unusual coming from him. He wanted to say that he got the satisfaction of bringing this backwards-ass shithole into the modern world, but he knew that wouldn’t be an acceptable answer.

  “Well, I get half my business back in the clinic, for one,” he said, pretending to playful. “Someone else is making decisions about how you can treat your property—and, how slave-related business can be run. With one assistant seized and another’s physical mobility limited by yet another restriction, I doubt the medical clinic will be running very efficiently at all for a while. Add in the additional health screenings... I’m going to be very busy.”

  “I’ve already waited two days to get a damn appointment!” someone yelled.

  “And I am sincerely sorry about that,” Jere said. “But medical safety is paramount. If the SRA passes, you might see your clinic functioning properly again. I want nothing more than that. But I’m not willing to sacrifice safety for efficiency. When I moved here from Sonova, I grew to understand that owning slaves was a right, a way of life, and I wanted to embrace that mentality. Now, I wonder if it’s just another way for your lawmakers to exercise their control over your lives. I met with a talent agency not long ago. I don’t want to leave Hojer; it’s become more of a home to me than anywhere else in the world. But if I can’t trust that my possessions and my business will be safe under the current laws, I can’t remain here. I am certain that many of you would feel the same if it were your slaves being seized, your businesses being shut down. I believe in Hojer, but not like this.”

  The speech continued for a while, with a question and answer session that Jere hit hard on. He had some supporters because of his position, but the fact that he had actually lost one of his slaves to the agency that many already saw as overreaching won him considerable support. Of course, there were plenty who still opposed him, who still opposed the SRA based on all of the slavery related things that it encompassed, but Jere had made quite an impression. Someone even offered to start a petition to free Wren, and no matter how futile Jere thought it was, he was pleased with the support.

  Once he finished with the press conference, he returned to the clinic and started implementing the safety plans he had discussed. He set up separate exam rooms, quarantine areas, and dragged some of the chairs from his house into the waiting area to seat the additional overflow patients. His average exam times jumped from twenty minutes to almost an hour, and the questions he asked irritated and enraged his patients. At the end of the day, he chose the most severe patients to treat and sent the rest home, encouraging them to try again in the morning or to take a speed train to one of the emergency clinics. He was frustrated and out of options, but so were the citizens of Hojer.

  Chapter 29

  Summoned

  After the press conference, Jere was appalled with himself. As much as his words had been inspired and passionate, he was going against every medical ethic he had ever believed in. He had played every card he thought possible in his desperate attempt to push the regulation agency, to get Wren back. Fighting corruption with corruption. He was mortified when he saw the newspapers over the next few days, prominently displaying his decisions and the comments criticizing the delays at the clinic.

  To add to the shame, Paltrek came over the following day, laughing and congratulating him.

  “Looks like you finally came to your senses, doc,” he teased. “Slavery—the future of Hojer!”

  Jere just shook his head. “I said that people shouldn’t be shot because it would spread a disease that might not even spread that way. I called Wren an asset! I’m turning patients away and subjecting them to overpriced procedures to prove a point!”

  “They’re getting your message,” Paltrek reminded him. “That’s all you could hope for.”

  “I hope for Wren to come back unharmed,” Jere muttered. He still could barely bring himself to think of his lover, much less say his name. Only four days had passed since he had been taken, but for Jere, they felt like months. He had pestered Kieran incessantly for information, but all he could get out of her was that Wren was alive and hadn’t revealed anything incriminating. She wouldn’t answer his question of whether he was being tortured, but Jere knew that meant he was. If he thought he had a chance, he’d storm every state facility until he found him.

  “Right now, they’d be complete idiots to do anything else,” Paltrek tried to reassure him. “You’re basically going around calling the current agency slave-snatching idiots—they do anything permanent to Wren, they’re confirming it. That’s riot level bullshit, right there. People are already angry about their favorite doctor suffering under the evil state’s restrictions. All they need is a little push.”

  “I guess. I don’t care what happens as long as I get Wren back. If this passes, he won’t ever have to worry about being caged in a veterinary clinic like an animal again. Or beaten in public. After all, contaminated blood or sweat or tears could infect free people.”

  “I like the part about the inter-state agreement,” Paltrek decided. “Right now, it’s a goddamned process. Stupid licensing and testing to take slaves out of state
. It’s ridiculous. Pay a fee, sure, but to have to go someplace and have things tested? Screw that. We’re supposed to be a united country, not a bunch of... separate ones.”

  Jere nodded. Paltrek wasn’t exactly the most eloquent political speaker, but he made a point pretty well.

  “You’re sure you wouldn’t want to help us speak or promote things?” Jere asked, hopeful as ever. He knew that people would receive Paltrek’s frank, slaveowner-centric views far more easily than the views of an outlander, and he would take any help he could get in his crusade against the people who had stolen his partner. “You have more sway than I do, being from here and all.”

  “Have you lost your mind? I wouldn’t be caught dead doing anti-slavery bullshit like that. Besides, my father has a professional team on the issue already.”

  Jere was surprised. “He’s supporting it, then?”

  Paltrek laughed. “His business is supporting it. His personal views are that the SRA is a waste of time and an exercise in softhearted idiocy, as he put it. But professionally, he’s started paying a lot more attention to international investments. He doesn’t want to be left behind, and he has some partners pressuring him to get with the times. He’s rich enough that he’ll continue to do whatever the hell he wants, but Wysocka Enterprises is formally in support of the election candidates who support the SRA. He’s specifically told me to stay away from anything that might ‘muck it up,’ including saying anything in public. Thinks I’ll be too much of a pushover and say something about the actual slaves.”

  “Thanks for letting me know,” Jere said. The support of a major financial figure was fantastic. Wysocka Enterprises had quite a bit of influence on the public and politics. “But, if you ever change your mind, the pushover side would be happy to have you.”

  “Yeah, and get kicked out of my father’s house and be disinherited?” Paltrek reminded him. “No thanks. Besides, I don’t really have the urge to hang around Kieran. She’s weird. Always has been. I figure the other anti-slavery people are like that, too.”

  “She has some choice things to say about you, too,” Jere pointed out. He found it rather strange that his two closest friends outside of the house more or less hated each other, but he was getting good at juggling the relationships.

  “I’m sure,” Paltrek said. “I hang out with you already, and I’m already getting enough shit for that. Now that you’re not new and interesting anymore, the only thing you’ve got going for you socially is that you’re a doctor, and a damn good one, and so you kind of get a pass on being all weird and radical and promoting stupid shit like this. I like you, personally, but most other people are suspicious. They can’t tell if you’re really invested in Hojer’s safety, or if you’re really just supporting the SRA. My father said that he respects your business sense and healing abilities, but nothing else.”

  Jere dismissed it. He wasn’t exactly concerned with what Paltrek’s father thought of him personally; his public and financial endorsement of a similar cause was enough. The man’s wealth didn’t impress him at all; he might be a big deal here in Hojer, but Jere had seen the truly rich and extravagant while living in Sonova, and they made the Wysocka family look like commoners.

  “Then again, he values his business sense more than anything else, including me, and maybe including Annika, so I guess that’s not all that bad,” Paltrek mused. “You can be in Daddy’s good graces, even if I can’t.”

  Jere didn’t want to be in the good graces of a man like that. He had heard enough stories of how Paltrek, senior, treated his family and slaves to know that he wanted to be nothing like the man, ever.

  “I’d watch my back if I were you,” Paltrek mentioned. “A lot of people agree with you, at least on the slaveowner protection bits, but plenty just see it as an abolitionist move, which we all know it is.”

  It was a risk; this sort of action put them prominently in the spotlight; worse, against the popular view of how to treat slaves. It was potentially dangerous.

  “I don’t think anyone will do anything,” Jere decided. “As of now, I’m still maintaining my image as the town’s doctor. After all, I should be interested in health, and this is being billed, largely, as a healthcare reform. So, if I just stick to that idea, I think I’ll be fine. The current regulation agency isn’t pleased with me, but they weren’t before. Let them be angry.”

  As they spoke, they were interrupted by a knock on the door. As Jere had forbidden Isis to go anywhere near the door in case of any sort of danger, he got up to answer it himself, his heart racing when he saw a speed messenger.

  It could be a notice to come and retrieve Wren, or it could be something terrible.

  When the messenger waited, Jere opened the letter and read it over quickly. When he finished, his heart was still racing, but more from uncertainty than anything else.

  The president of Arona had summoned him for a meeting.

  “Sir, do you have a reply for President Clemente?” the slave prompted. “He’s eager to set up a meeting as quickly as possible.”

  Jere nodded, still staring at the letter. There was no indication of why Jere was being summoned, or what the outcome might be, or why the man who had ignored his request to spare Isis from the ordeal she faced last year was suddenly so interested in his life. “When should I come?”

  The slave gave him an apologetic look. “President Clemente would like to see you as soon as possible, sir.”

  “He means right fucking now,” Paltrek interpreted. “It seems you’ve made an impression. Why don’t you go ahead and go, I’ll make sure everything here is taken care of.”

  Jere gave him a curious look. The only thing to really “take care of” was Isis, and he didn’t think Paltrek would care.

  “Jeremy, you’re a target,” Paltrek reminded him. “I’ll make sure your house and your little girl are safe. I know you’d do the same.”

  Jere nodded, relieved that he could trust his friend. Isis wasn’t pleased with the situation, but Jere convinced her to just stay quietly in her room, a solution she and Paltrek both supported. He changed out of his work clothes and into something nicer, something that seemed more appropriate for a meeting with the leader of Arona. For as many times as he had come into contact with the man, they had never spoken or been formally introduced.

  His speed train ticket was already purchased, which made him wonder just how certain the president was that he was going to respond. If he hadn’t, would there have been some sort of threat? Or was the man just that sure of Jere’s desperation. In any case, he arrived at the Capitol building quickly, and the same slave who had delivered the letter escorted Jere to an office. He walked in hesitantly, but determined to get some sort of results.

  “Doctor Peters,” the president introduced himself. “I’m Eldred Clemente. The president of Arona. I’m very pleased to meet you.”

  Jere shook his hand and sat down, but didn’t speak. He had done enough speaking yesterday; he had nothing to say unless it was for a damn good reason.

  “You created quite a stir with your speech last night. My office hasn’t received this many inquiries since I took this position. I don’t quite know what to do with it.”

  “Well, you’ve ignored them in the past,” Jere reminded him, bitter.

  President Clemente nodded. “The girl,” he recalled.

  They were silent for a moment, staring at one another. Jere wondered if the president knew where Wren was, knew what was being done to him. He wondered if he knew that Jere had denied pain relief to his daughter last winter. He wondered if any of it mattered.

  “Is there a real threat of disease?”

  “Yes. It can come, and if it’s not this one, it will be another. If it’s not halted, it could wipe out the entire town. It’s happened before. I could provide research—”

  “Don’t bother.” The president gave Jere a warning look. “We’ve received hundreds of complaints about the functioning of your clinic over the past few days. Do you really think that
inconveniencing your patients is an appropriate way to retaliate? You have a job here, Dr. Peters.”

  “Yes. I do. My job is to take appropriate measures to ensure the safety of Hojer’s residents. That includes mandating additional screenings and health checks. It’s in the state’s codes, and it’s in my contract with the town of Hojer.”

  “This has nothing to do with safety!”

  Jere smiled. He had done his research. “Other cities have implemented similar restrictions. I am well within my rights to run my clinic as I please. You’re always welcome to hire additional doctors—maybe that’s what’s necessary.”

  The president shook his head and looked at Jere, defeated. “What are the chances of another healer coming to Hojer? You’ve gone to other states and called it a ‘magnet for disease.’ You’ve openly announced that business is so bad here that you are looking for other jobs. If that disease comes to Hojer, would any other healer even take your position?”

  Jere scoffed. He could be honest with this answer. “The chances of another healer taking my position in Hojer are slim on its best days. The best training clinics are in free states. People are progressive there. Nobody of quality wants to come to a rural town like this and take on this much responsibility and isolation. If an outbreak occurred, that number would reduce drastically.”

  The president scowled. “Is this all a show? A scare tactic? Would you even be able to heal them?”

  “I’d do a hell of a lot better than anyone else around here,” Jere snapped. He wondered if he should hold his tongue, but he didn’t care anymore. If Wren wasn’t returned, he would leave, and he’d take Isis with him. Even if Wren did return, a part of him wanted to leave, move to another slave state. He’d let Hojer flail until they found a doctor, and he’d hope that they never would.

  “I’m facing significant pressure from both sides, Dr. Peters,” the president revealed. “Traditionalists hate the SRA and won’t re-elect someone who supports it. Progressives love it and won’t re-elect someone who doesn’t. It’s the people in the middle I need to appeal to, and most of them don’t care about politics or values or anything. They want to know that they’ll be safe, that they are doing the right thing. You’re an attractive public figure. You’re quiet about almost everything, so people think that anything you say is important. You’re more educated than most people here, and they realize that. You’ve upset my state, called out the slave agency, and now you’re not even healing people in a timely manner.”