“Why don’t you ask Dr. Linton for a note?” Cindy sat down opposite Kris. “He’s a great doctor. I sprained my wrist a few days ago, and he fixed me right up.” As she spoke about the incident, she took on a dreamy look as if she were speaking about meeting a movie star.
Kris leaned back in her chair and looked at the young, wide-eyed girl in front of her. She was trying to remember how it had felt to be as young and ignorant of the world as Cindy, but as hard as she tried she could not stir any familiar memories.
Finally, she smiled, “I really hate to be the one to break this to you, Cindy, but there are no great doctors here. I used to sell houses to great doctors. They live in multi-million dollar mansions; they have garages full of expensive cars, and they have second homes near ski-resorts. They do not work for the government, live in two hundred square foot roach-infested apartments and get paid in credits. Great doctors’ dogs live better than we do. But aside from all that, Dr. Linton doesn’t have any more authority over there than I do.”
“Sure he does,” Cindy countered ignoring all of the other observations Kris had just made. “Any doctor on the FMPD payroll can treat any patient, and any doctor can send over a do-not-call note—for anybody. Ask him—he really is a great doctor and a great person. And he has a wonderful bedside manner.”
Now Kris laughed—mainly at the dreamy look on Cindy’s face when she spoke those final words. “Now that part I do believe, seeing the way you are going on about him.”
Cindy looked startled to see Kris laughing. “No, not like that. I mean, I would like for it to be like that, but I think he’s just really lonely or shy or something. All he needs is the right woman to help him come out of his shell.”
“I am sure that is exactly what girls thought about Ted Bundy, too.” Kris noted the confused look on Cindy’s face—she had apparently never heard of Ted Bundy, so Kris changed the subject. “Are you sure that he has the authority to give us a note?”
“Absolutely. It happens all the time. Doctors do not answer to Planners, but Planners can definitely get help from a different doctor. It just has to be somebody working for FMPD.”
“Thanks, Cindy. I appreciate the info.”
Kris got up to walk over to the clinic. She was going to stop that obnoxious little elf from banging on her mother’s door every day if it meant going to the Surgeon General of the United States, so she might as well ask Michael Linton first.
Linton was out when she arrived; she was told that he would not be back until Monday morning. That would have to do. She would call him from work tomorrow and see if she could at least get him to come to the phone.
She passed the rest of the day window shopping through the few stores at FE before she walked over to the dining hall to eat dinner at 5:00. Just as she arrived, she heard an announcement over the PA system, “The President of the United States will be addressing the nation in five minutes. We will be broadcasting the address live.”
“Great,” she murmured to herself. The last thing she wanted to hear was another official speech. She despised the fact that all of the President’s speeches were broadcast over the community PA system so that every resident was forced to listen, whether he wanted to or not.
She was just sitting down when she heard the President’s voice. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I am addressing you tonight from the Oval Office about the grave situation affecting the Gulf Coast states—specifically Texas, Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama. As many of you know, for the past sixty days increasing numbers of residents of the coastal regions of these states have been afflicted with a mysterious illness. Hardest hit by this illness have been infants, small children and seniors, although we have reports of entire families who have lost their lives. Two months ago, I sent the EPA to this region to investigate the source of this illness, and today the director of the Environmental Protection Agency presented me with his agency’s findings. We now know that the tragic events which our fellow Americans are experiencing are the result of toxins released into the water from the massive oil spill that occurred during an off-shore drilling accident four years ago. The director and his team are now able to say with certainty that toxins present in the oil and in chemicals utilized by the off-shore drilling station four years ago were released into the Gulf at the time of the explosion, but these chemicals and toxins have only recently broken down completely. As they have done so, their chemical structure has mutated into an airborne toxin with the devastating results we are seeing today.
“As a result of these findings, I am immediately suspending all domestic drilling for oil in the United States, whether on public or private land. We have known for many years that fossil fuels pollute our air and water and that they are a non-renewable resource. We now have concrete evidence to support a new assertion—fossil fuels and the chemicals and processes used to extract them threaten the very survival of the human race.
“As a result of this new moratorium on drilling for fossil fuels, Americans can expect to see gas prices rise, probably dramatically. However, our Administration has invested heavily in public transit and public transportation projects. Let me be clear—there is no reason that higher gas prices or, in some cases, limited availability of gasoline, should threaten the way of life of any person within the sound of my voice. Take advantage of the public transit options in your city and community. You will find that you are saving considerable money as well as insuring a healthier planet and a safer existence for you, your family and your community.
“As for our neighbors in the affected states, rest assured that we are completely committed to restoring these communities to health. Teams of physicians, among them the best toxicologists in the United States, continue to travel to the Gulf States region to treat the sick. Because of the nature of this illness, it has taken a devastating toll on the day-to-day operations of state and local governments, making ‘business as usual’ virtually impossible. To address this issue, I have declared each state a federal disaster area, and we are now in the process of setting up a regional governing authority which will ensure that there will be no interruption of services to the residents of these areas. In addition to assuming responsibilities previously handled by the individual state and local governments of these regions, this governing authority will assist with medical expenses and with the sad duty of finding enough resting places for those who have died as a result of this terrible tragedy. We will not abandon this work until the environment is safe, and every family has laid their loved ones to a proper rest in accordance with their own wishes and beliefs.
“I also want to assure all of you who are listening to this broadcast outside of the Gulf Coast region that this illness is not contagious. Only through direct exposure to the toxins can a person become infected. Director Woods has assured me that there is no reason for anyone to fear contact with a friend or loved one who has been exposed to the illness or is ill himself. I encourage each of us to open our hearts to our fellow Americans and to reach out in this time of distress.
“My Administration will keep all Americans informed of our progress in this matter. If you have questions about what to do or if you need to report a specific outbreak, go to the EPA website and click the appropriate links. God bless all of you, and God bless America.”
Kris was shocked as she listened to the speech. She had seen mentions of the Gulf Coast illness on the news and on her home page on the internet, but she had no idea that it had spread so much. Pulling her Smart phone out of her purse, she searched “Gulf Coast illness, 2014.” Immediately pages of data came up with pictures of dying infants, listless children—stories of a pregnant woman and her three children who had died within days of contracting the disease. Entire families had already perished—from the ninety-year- old great grandmother to the six-month-old baby and everyone in between. The disease was airborne, and it killed within days.
As she scrolled a little further down looking for more information, she read, “Learn the truth
about the Gulf Coast illness. We have the facts the government doesn’t want you to know.” Kris looked at the address bar—Gulag Universe, of course. That was one of Keith’s favorite websites and an ever-present source of ridiculous, over-the-top and completely baseless conspiracy theories. She skipped over the link without clicking it, preferring to get her information from real news outlets.
The images of the dying stayed with her as she fell asleep that night. So many were ill—the news outlets listed the numbers in the high tens of thousands and mounting. She was able to watch an interview with the director of the EPA online as he discussed the agency efforts to end this plague; that interview was followed by one in which an EPA field agent explained how the agency had diagnosed the cause of the sickness. The whole situation was just so tragic.
Her last thought as she fell asleep was that she could stop mourning her car now—with all domestic oil production stopped she could not have afforded the gas for it under any circumstances. She was really very lucky to be in Arizona, in a job where relying on public transportation was a requirement.
The next morning as soon as she arrived at her desk at work she called the clinic and asked for Michael Linton. When she was put on hold, she set the speaker function of the phone so that she could work for the forty-five minutes she fully expected to wait. To her surprise, within less than a minute she heard a serious voice on the phone. “This is Michael Linton.”
Kris grabbed the receiver and turned off the speakerphone. “Hi, Dr. Linton…this is Kris Mitchell. I don’t know whether you remember me. Pat Kilmer introduced us a couple of months ago. I am the new Planner for W.”
“Of course, Miss Mitchell. How can I help you?”
Kris paused. She had not really thought about how she was going to ask for this note. Maybe she should have rehearsed what she was going to say before she got him on the phone. Too late now—she was just going to have to tell him what she wanted.
“Okay, my mother is a resident of W—a new resident; she moved in about a month ago. I went to see her on Saturday, and she has had a severe gout attack. She can barely get up; my father is carrying meals from the dining hall to her unit so that she can eat.”
“Has she seen the doctor at W—Kinkaid?” Michael asked.
“She has seen the PA. I took her over on Saturday, and the PA looked at her and gave her a prescription for some pain medication. He says that he can prescribe some additional medication once the attack ends. Here’s the thing—every day the community volunteer coordinator comes by and knocks on her unit door and gives her a hard time because she volunteered to wash dishes at the dining hall five hours a week, and now she can’t stand on her feet to do it. Her feet are red and hot and swollen, and she is in horrible pain. Rather than just leaving her alone while she is getting well, this lady berates her for not being able to do the work. She told me that she wishes sometimes that she could die rather than live there sick like this with this woman harping on her like she’s some kind of a criminal. I asked Derek to give her a do-not-call note, but he said that she didn’t need one because she should be able to get back to her regular activities with the pain killers and that it would be motivating to have the coordinators come see her every day.
“Look, Dr. Linton. I don’t know how much you know about gout, but my mother has suffered from this for over fifteen years. Stress induces the attacks. She felt a lot of stress about giving up her home and moving to W; I think that is one reason that she had the attack in the first place. But having this woman come harass her every day makes it harder for her to get well because those visits put her under more stress. My mother does not need motivation to get back to life—she is the hardest working, most responsible person I have ever known. But I want to stop these visits. Will you give us a do-not-call note for her for thirty days while she is recovering? As soon as she gets well, she will get back to her volunteer work. All I want is for her to have a little peace and quiet and to be able to get her light bulbs replaced.”
“What light bulbs?” Michael interrupted.
“Oh, that’s what started this whole mess. She and my dad were a little reluctant to volunteer as soon as they moved in, but then one of their light bulbs burned out, and they were told that they would be at the bottom of the list to get it replaced if they refused to volunteer. So my dad signed up for the community garden, and Mom signed up for the dining hall, but now that she has been sick, I am afraid that they will not be on the list to get their light bulbs. That’s another reason I wanted the note.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but if a doctor’s note would bring light bulbs, I would have some. Two of mine went out six months ago, and I have yet to see a new one.”
“Really?” Kris was genuinely surprised. She wanted to say that the way everyone talked about the doctors as though they were mini-kings, she figured that they did not have the same problems as the rest of the community, but such a quip might endanger her only chance of getting the do-not-call note, so instead she responded, “I thought these new energy-efficient light bulbs cost so much because they were supposed to last twenty years or something like that. And W is new—actually so is FE, so I don’t know why anybody needs light bulbs.”
“Well, the way I see it, the actual bulbs last about twenty weeks, but it takes twenty years to get a new one, so the net effect is the same. Welcome to government housing,” Michael chuckled, and Kris was surprised again—she had never even seen him smile, much less heard him laugh. But then his tone turned immediately serious again. “She was examined by Derek?” Michael repeated. “She didn’t see the doctor at all?”
“Yes, the doctor was unavailable.”
“I will call Derek and talk to him right now. There might be some additional medication that could benefit your mother, but I won’t know until I talk to Derek. And I will see what I can do about the note.”
“Thank you Dr. Linton. I really appreciate it very much, and I know my mother will appreciate it too.”
She hung up the phone with some hope that he would help. He had not actually promised to help Janine, but he had promised to look into the situation, which was more than anybody else had agreed to do. If he provided the note, great; if not, she would keep making phone calls until she found a doctor who would. Now she could start the rest of her day.
In the evening she called her mother after work to check on her. Janine answered the phone in higher spirits than she had been in before. “How are you feeling?” Kris asked her, “You sound perkier.”
“I am perkier, and I am much better. Here’s something that will shock you—Derek actually came to see me. He brought me an additional medication that he wanted me to try for the gout. He said that it is new and that I should report any negative side effects—and then, of course, he read me this list which included everything from yellow toenails to brain hemorrhage. It sounded so scary I almost said, ‘No thanks,’ but he said that one of the doctors had prescribed it for me, and he needed to administer it. He gave me a shot, and I started feeling better right away. You should see my feet—they almost look like real feet again.”
“I’m so glad, Mom. Do they hurt less?”
“They still hurt—a lot—but they hurt less. I am able to stand up for a few minutes now. I think in a couple of days I will be able to walk down and get my own meals again so that your dad won’t have to keep carrying the plates up here and taking them back for me three times a day.”
“Just so long as all you are doing is walking down there to get your own meals. Don’t be standing on your feet to wash dishes until this is over. It will just prolong it. Did that awful little woman come see you today?”
“No, as a matter of fact, I did not hear from her at all. And Derek was so much nicer than he was the last time I saw him. I’m going to be fine, Kris. The Lord is helping me.” Janine had ended so many sentences with those exact words over the years that Kris had to smile.
“Well, let the Lord work through me for a while. If you get worse, or you
need anything, call me right away, on this phone. Even if I can’t immediately go down there, I may be able to help. I’ve got connections. Get some rest, and take it easy. I will call you again tomorrow to check on you.”
Kris hung up the phone. From her Smart phone she sent an email to Michael Linton that read, “Talked to my mother. She is doing much better with her new medication. No coordinators came to see her today. Thank you very much for your help.”
Within a couple of minutes she received a two word response, “You’re welcome.” She left her unit and walked to the dining hall feeling better about her mother’s situation than she had for days, and when she got back to her unit after dinner, she fell asleep early.
Her ringing mobile phone awakened her. The time on the phone read 2:00 A.M. She squinted to read the numbers on the caller ID—it was Keith’s satellite phone. “This had better be important,” she muttered to herself as she answered it.
“Hi, Kris,” his speech was slurred. “How’s it going?”
“It’s going fine, Keith. It’s the middle of the night. What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. Did you see about those people on the news who are dying? The government killed them. The government is killing everybody….”
“Are you talking about the people dying along the Gulf Coast? The government didn’t kill those people. They’re dying because of that huge oil spill—it left poisons in the water.” Kris was exhausted; the room was so hot she could barely breathe. Keith could stay awake all night thinking up this garbage since he did not have to go work, but she had a meeting with seventy-five seniors in five hours.
“No, the government killed them. Remember a couple of years ago when every New Years Eve a whole bunch of birds would fall out of the sky in Alabama? The government said they were killed by fireworks, and all the dopes in this country actually believed it. But they weren’t. The Feds were testing an airborne toxin, and when they got it perfected, they used it on the human population. A buddy of mine writes for this website; he’s done lots of research….”
W: The Planner, The Chosen Page 12