by Jason Mather
“But, Hans, you’ve been…” she stammered.
“Yes, I know. I’ve been destroyed and rebuilt. I’m fucking Lazarus, or maybe just a broken scooter. Well, I didn’t ask you to rebuild me, did I? In fact, I believe my file said specifically to not rebuild. You’ll excuse me if I don’t seem grateful for having my wishes tacitly ignored. And don’t call me Hans. “
The silence that greeted his outburst was the first moment of genuine pleasure Hans had felt since awakening. He could tell from the sour look on her face it wasn’t going to last, though.
“And what, exactly, should I call you, if not your name?”
“You can call me Mr. Ricker, or patient number whatever, or bastard.”
He could see she was tempted by the last suggestion.
“Well, Mr. Ricker, I’ll have Doctor Laud in shortly to see what we can do about that wrist. In the meantime…”
She walked to the console and tapped on the screen a few times. The restraints returned to his head and feet.
— «» —
Hans had three visitors that night.
The first made himself known through a sharp pain in Hans’ hurting wrist, yanking Hans out of an uncomfortable doze.
“Ow! Shit!”
“Sorry,” Laud pushed at the sore spot again, watching Hans’ eyes as he did so. Hans refused to give him another sign of pain. “I don’t think it’s broken. Try not to do anything strenuous with it for a few days and it should be fine.”
The windows had tinted themselves black. A soft glow came from light strips running along the seams of roof and wall. Hans stared at Laud with what he hoped was menace, but it had little effect.
“Is there anything else you’d like to do to me while I’m here and helpless. Poke my eyes? Smack me in the nuts?”
“No, I think the wrist will be enough.”
Laud set Hans’ aching wrist down, but continued to stand quietly at the side of the bed.
“Somethin’ on your mind, Doc?”
Laud’s mouth opened, then shut. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, eyes turning to the windows. Eventually his body followed, walking over to the wall and tapping a recess in the corner to make the windows transparent. A jumpcraft flew past outside, transporting some VIP from rooftop to rooftop.
“Who do you think runs this hospital, Mr. Ricker?”
“The computers. They run everything here.”
“Where is here? This hospital?”
“This hospital. This city-state. This country, whatever’s left of it.”
Laud nodded, but did not turn around.
“You don’t live in the city, do you?”
“Not when I can help it.”
“I thought not. “
Hans wanted to turn and relieve a crick in his neck, but Laud had not released his restraints.
“You may be correct about the computers running the country, even the city-state, but I must correct a misperception on your part as to who runs this hospital.”
“Is this where you give me the ‘I alpha, you beta’ talk?”
“Oh no, Mr. Ricker, I assure you, I do not run this hospital. Neither do the administrators, nor the board of directors, nor even the computer systems.”
“If you’re going to start getting religious on me, I’d really rather…”
Laud’s laugh cut him off. “No, Mr. Ricker, no god either.”
Hans waited.
“The nurses run this hospital, Mr. Ricker. They feed and clothe and wash and dispose. They provide comfort where needed. They handle nearly every necessity that keeps a place like this running. One will not get far abusing their good will, doctor or patient.”
“So, this is about Toni?”
“Maybe you can explain to me, Mr. Ricker, why, when I arrived for my evening rounds, I found Ms. Juarez sitting at her desk with running makeup and red-rimmed eyes.”
“If she’s gonna cry about something like that, maybe she’s not cut out for this.”
“I can assure you that her credentials and skills are as good as they come, or she wouldn’t be working on this floor.”
“Has she had an emotional evaluation?”
“To prove what? That she has compassion? That she cares about her patients? That she is a human being? That her feelings can be hurt?”
“Sure.”
For the first time during his lecture, Laud turned and looked at Hans.
“I have been doing this work for a long time, Mr. Ricker. I have dealt with many difficult patients and bull-headed mules like yourself, most of them my superiors. But no amount of training will prepare you for your first experiences with the reality of this work. Ms. Juarez is somewhat new here, her first posting after university. Actually, her tenure here is almost exactly the same length as yours. When you arrived, we almost lost you. Although our capabilities for sustaining and repairing of the human body are highly advanced, they are not infallible, and they are not routine. Miss Juarez has been taking care of you from the time you were merely a head and partial torso hooked into the maximum amount of life-sustaining architecture this institute has to offer. She has participated in every surgery, monitored every threat to your existence. Over this last year she has nursed you back from the brink of death. I know you didn’t ask for or want that, but that has nothing to do with her. Because this was her first case, she has become a bit more emotionally attached than we would wish, but that is a usual part of the training experience.”
“So… what? She’s in love with me?”
“Hardly. But she has taken it upon herself to make your well-being personal. No matter how little you care for your own life, Mr. Ricker, you owe most of it to her training, her work ethic, and her caring.”
Laud walked back over to the side of the bed.
“I do not think you are a bad person, merely difficult. But you would do well to think on these things before you wield that blunt weapon between your nose and chin at a kind-hearted woman to whom you owe your life.”
Laud exited the room quickly. He did not undo Hans’ restraints.
— «» —
Hans’ second visitor was the last person he wanted to see after the scathing rebuke that Doctor Laud had given him. Toni arrived with his dinner, at this point still mostly a pungent broth and various other liquids. Hans had been promised that he would receive some solid food very shortly.
The nurse had obviously fixed and reapplied her makeup. She gave him a strained smile and asked if he needed any help.
“What’s Toni short for?” Hans’ voice cracked on the last word, which did not help his attempt to sound relaxed.
“Antonia.”
“Can I call you Antonia?”
“Ms. Juarez will do.”
He probably deserved that.
“I guess it’d be best if I continued to go by bastard. Unless you’d prefer ‘son of a bitch’ or ‘bull-headed idiot’.”
“Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Ricker?” Not even a hint of a smile. Hans was too weak and confused to maintain his stubborn ego any longer. He did something extremely rare.
“You could accept my apology.”
She cocked her head and pursed her lips together.
“I thought I was dead. Instead I’m in the last place I’d want to be. I am helpless, I am dependent, I am scared, and I hate every single second of it. I’ve lost fourteen months of my life, all because I was an idiot.”
“Hans…” so maybe they were back to first names, “you don’t have to tell me any of this.”
He tried to wave her interjection away, but instead whacked his wrist on the bed railing. Charm and intimacy were both impossible when grimacing in pain. When it faded it a bit she was still standing by his bed. Hans tried to clear his throat and coughed dryly. Toni picked up a plastic cup with a straw and held it to his lips. The restrained angle of his head caused some of the liquid to go down his cheek. She wiped it efficiently with a hand towel from the tray.
“None of this…” he c
oughed a little more, “none of this has anything to do with you. All you’ve done is nurse an ungrateful man back from the brink of death. A man who will, based on prior knowledge of himself, continue to be sullen and difficult. So, I would ask that, on this rare occasion when he admits to being the ass he is, you would simply accept his apology before the last of his dignity is whisked away by the magical sheets. I owe you my life. It’s not worth it, believe me.”
“Every life is important, Hans.”
“I knew you’d say that.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Let’s just agree to disagree, with the understanding that I know the world needs more people like you and less like me.”
She took a pause, considering her options. “You can call me Antonia if you wish, though only my mother calls me that. My friends call me Toni.”
“Antonia it is. I don’t like the name Toni.”
She actually smiled at this, “Are we back to being difficult already?”
“It’s what I do.”
“Well then, Hans, do you need any help eating?”
“No, thank you, Antonia, though if you could release my head so I won’t dribble on myself I would appreciate it.”
“I think you’ve dribbled enough for one day.” She started for the door, but paused near the entryway.
She undid his restraints before she left.
— «» —
Visitor number three almost had to be a hallucination, appearing as he did in a cloud of smoke. Hans had finally managed some genuine sleep, the recovering strength in his body allowing him to turn on one side. It was a glorious change in routine. He had been dreaming about a good cigarette, so initially wasn’t surprised to smell the smoke. It was only when his eyes began to water that he came to enough awareness to see the man sitting next to the bed. Black pants, black turtleneck, leather jacket, a cigarette sticking improbably out of the side of his mouth.
“I’m pretty sure you can’t smoke in here.”
“Places like this got air filtering systems out the ass, I doubt it’s going to be noticed.”
“I’m noticing. Can’t you see I’m a very sick man?”
“I figured the smoke would bring you around. A bit of heaven for a dying man.”
Hans did not disagree. “You got one I can borrow, or are you going to bogart the whole pack?”
Leather Jacket held out a black case to Hans as he tried unsuccessfully to sit up. Eventually the man went around to the console and tapped something that raised the back of the bed into a sitting position.
“You got a light?”
Jacket placed the cigarette to Hans’ lips and held the lighter against it. Hans inhaled deeply, forgetting that his new lungs had never had the pleasure. He coughed violently, room spinning. The speaker in the ceiling began to beep, but no one came to answer it.
After he was mostly sure he wasn’t going to pass out, Hans took another puff. This one went a little better. He’d have himself back to a couple of packs a day in no time. It was the first time since awakening that he felt human.
“Good?”
“Very.”
They sat and smoked. Hans had always been of the opinion that truly comfortable silence could only be enjoyed by fellow addicts. Eventually his curiosity peaked.
“You watching the door?”
“Yeah.”
Another pause as they both puffed away. Hans finished his and Jacket offered him another.
“What’s with the getup? You trying to look civilian?”
“Sure.”
“And you picked this? Or is there a standard military dog uniform I don’t know about?”
“I like dogs, they’re loyal.”
“And stupid.”
“Used to have an uncle with an old mutt. He trained it to get him beer from the fridge, was always claiming that he had nearly trained it to make him a sandwich. That was a great dog.”
Hans stared at him.
“Not sure I really believed him about the sandwich, though.”
Hans couldn’t help laughing at that one.
“Why’d she send you, Gino?”
“The commander wanted you protected.”
“I understand that, but why you specifically? I’m sure there’re plenty of stooges she could have sent.”
“Grit doesn’t hire any stooges.”
“We have a different definition of the word stooge.”
Gino sat back and considered Hans. “You think I’m a stooge, Hans?”
“You said that, not me.”
“You insinuated…”
“No, I believe you inferred.”
“I don’t follow.”
It was good to finally have someone inferior to joust with.
“Forget it. Last I heard you were two spots from the top.”
“Only one now.”
“One huh? Truly your career as a boot-licker is reaching new heights. You her personal secretary now?”
Gino shrugged off the insult. “In charge of the commander’s personal protection and proper designation of responsibility to lower ranks.”
“Was that what it said on the job description?”
“Yeah, right underneath the heading ‘head cook and bottle washer’.”
Or maybe not so inferior.
“So, you’re right up next to her now huh? I’ll bet you enjoy that.”
Gino bit down on his cigarette.
“If you’re trying to infer that I slept my way to the top, there’s a hell of a lot of perps with holes in ‘em that may beg to differ.”
“Truly the gun is the ultimate tool of promotion.”
“I’m not going to have philosophical argument about the proper application of force.”
“Surely not. But are you going to deny that you’ve got the hots for her?”
Gino’s glare made Hans think he may have actually gone too far with that one.
“Fraternization between officers and subordinates is strictly forbidden.”
“Duty before booty, huh?”
Gino snickered, lightening the tone between them.
“I am here as a personal favor to the commander. She ill-advisedly considers you a high-value property.”
“When you care enough to send the very best.”
“Yeah.”
“So…” every puff of the cigarette was making him feel more civilized.
“So…?”
“Are you here to interrogate me?”
“Nah, I just thought you might want a cigarette.”
“It’s good to see someone familiar, even if it is you.”
“Grit wants to talk to you herself.”
“Her Highness is coming all the way down here to see me? Impressive.”
“She wants to know what the hell happened.”
“I’m not sure what help I’ll be. I’m not sure myself.”
“And she’s worried about you.”
Hans sniffed.
“Don’t be that way Hans. Grit is a hard-ass, we all know that.”
“You more than most.”
“But… she’s been worried sick ever since we found you laying on the floor in two pieces.”
“We… you guys found me?”
“One of our squads.”
“Why the hell were you there?”
“That’s not really information I can give you right now.”
“Of course not.”
“Anyway, she’s been monitoring your progress. “
“I imagine there are quite a few administrators in this place that already hate hearing her name.”
“Yeah, well, she gets things done.”
“So, she paid for all this.”
“Dunno.”
“Don’t know or can’t say?”
“What’s the difference?”
Hans finished his second cigarette. Gino didn’t offer another.
“Is Grit worried somebody might be coming after me?”
“Grit understands the concept of
underestimating the danger.”
“Well, I’m glad it’s you, Gino.”
“Just for the next few days, then you’ll have one of my stooges.”
“I don’t expect to be here for more than a couple days.”
“We’ll see.”
Hans frowned, “Yeah… we will.”
“Hans…?”
“What?”
“I know this is probably wasted effort, but don’t be an idiot, all right?”
“Never have been.”
“Besides falling out of bed and pissing on the floor, you mean.”
“Could you piss the bed? Even if it cleaned up after you.”
“I’ve spent days laying in a hole shitting in a diaper.”
“I’d rather not know anything about what you and the commander get up to in your private time.”
“Yeah, anyway, just listen to the doctor, ok?”
“We’ll see.”
Gino stubbed out his cigarette on the sole of his boot and slipped their used butts inside his jacket pocket.
“I’ll dispose of these.”
“When’s she coming to see me, Gino?”
“Next couple of days.”
“I’ll put on my happy face.”
— «» —
The next day was a long series of firsts. First standing piss, first good BM, first shower. The room in the corner turned out to be a multifunction economy bathroom the size of large shower stall, crammed with nearly every bathroom-related item. A shower-head in the ceiling sprayed water throughout the whole room. Hans had always liked these. They were cozy and he’d always enjoyed being able to take shit and shower at the same time. It saved time and toilet paper.
He had been able to waddle over to the bathroom with the help of the day nurse, a well-muscled older woman. He’d been a little uncomfortable with her help in showering, but she’d just bulled her way in, telling him that she’d washed his willy a thousand times and wasn’t about to get all coy now. He’d pretty much exhausted himself getting to the room and doing his other business, and submitted as meekly as possible to the vigorous and thorough scrubbing before she stepped out to turn on the water and let him rinse.