Vol. 4 Chap. 38 Rebellion!

Vol. 4 Chap. 38 Rebellion!

Truth was fairly flummoxed. “So, having considered all the relevant information, you just decided to die?”

“Yeah. Basically.” The kid nodded.

Truth had to control the urge to say something about “smart to leave early and beat the rush.” Kid had tried to kill himself with a cloud of poison gas. He deserved better than someone laughing at him. Not that Truth thought his personal views on the subject made a lot of rational sense.

“Not going to lie, little bro. Tough one.”

The kid shrugged.

“If it was a chemical imbalance in your brain, or demons or addiction or something, I have a procedure for that.” Truth waved his clipboard. “Philosophical resolve to die isn’t in the procedures manual.”

The kid shrugged again.

“Well, it is. Suicide watch, followed by a consult by Feelings-Bro. But I think you get what I mean.”

“Bro?”

“Yeah?”

“No, you keep saying Bro.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Truth nodded.

“Why?” The kid looked curious.

“Because I basically agree with you, Kid-Bro. Everything is just incredibly cursed.”

That got Truth a weird look. No matter. He was used to them at this point.

“You agree with me?”

“Your premises, not your conclusion.”

The kid worked it out in his head.

“Oh.”

Then he shrugged.

Truth’s mouth twitched into an approximation of a smile.

“Basically I decided to be a pain in the ass, Kid-Bro. Everything is doomed, so I’d enjoy it. I’d find things that seemed meaningful to me to do, and even if they didn’t wind up mattering in some global, cosmic sense, I’d have fun with it. I would live a completely selfish life of helping others.”

Truth nodded. “So far, it’s been a great success. Not all sunshine and roses, but things are definitely better for me now, compared to how they were when I was growing up.”

This got him another, more intensely judgemental look.

“You trying to be funny?”

“No, I am famously not good at jokes.”

“You got famous for that?”

“Yes. I am known far and wide as a Bro who cannot tell good jokes.” Truth’s face was very severe.

“You still haven’t explained the “Bro” thing, though. Are you sure you are a doctor?”

“Bro. Did I go to med school, or the gym?” Truth waved a muscular hand over his incredibly sculpted body. “And yes, it does. Everyone is my Bro. Without limitations. All are Bros. Some are Bad-Bro’s. Out there hurting people, being jerks. It’s not good, but they are still Bro’s.”

The kid gave him an impressively flat stare.

“We agree the world is cursed, right?” Truth asked the teen.

“Yeah.”

“Patient is scheduled for suicide watch and Feelings-Bro convo?”

The resident blinked, bleary eyes trying to reconcile the data they were receiving with what Comrad Ears was reporting.

“Uh. Yes, Doctor.”

“Good. Next patient.”

Was there a better way to help the kid? He didn’t know. He really, really didn’t know. But they were in a hospital, and presumably there were people that did know, so keeping him interested in the world and focused on non-destructive stuff should be a good thing, right?

He could only hope.

The next few cases passed on almost autopilot. He looked them over, went “HMMM. Bro, let me explain what happens next,” and generally cribbed from the now completely bewildered, but worshipful, resident.

He even managed to find some orthopedics cases, and snuck in a bit of Cup and Knife work. It might not be procedure, but it did let him loudly lecture the resident about patients “Being sent for a surgical eval when any competent first year med student-bro should have them up and walking off the stiffness in six minutes or less.”

Truth’s voice was raised to a delicate bellow, audible considerably beyond the ordinary human audible spectrum. “Tell me, Junior-Bro, do they still study magic in med-school? Are things so bad in whatever fleapit university you attended that they don’t cover spells?”

“It... it presented as a comminuted displaced distal radius fracture with intra-articular split, apex dorsal angulation and a radial styloid split. I... we thought...”

“Oh please! An Eye-Bro could make that diagnosis in his sleep, never mind a real doctor! And don’t think I didn’t notice that “we,” Bro. You are the Doctor. Don’t try to blame this on the nurse. YOU are responsible for your dogshit opinions! Now let me guess- you want to bolt down the bone fragments with a piece of metal? Hmm? Maybe carve the patients open like the luxurious chicken dinners you are eating every night?”

The resident, who plainly hadn’t slept or eaten real food in three days, could only gawp at the unfairness of the accusation.

“We are Mage-Doctors! Miracle healers! Not barbarians. Not butchers. We make people whole in this place. We HEAL people in this place! Let’s see if you can be a little less disappointing with the next patient.”

It might be unfair to the resident, but every doctor, nurse and patient in earshot was firmly convinced that a very senior orthopedic doctor was now in attendance. Confidence shot way up. Even the patients settled down, feeling more optimistic about how everything would work out.

With the right sort of eyes, and if you were looking for it, you could see the ripples Truth left in his wake. He was watching for them- the subtle changes in expression, the way their bodies shifted from pain and fear to pain and acceptance. The present hurt- but it wasn’t forever. Relief was coming.

It was remarkable how often that was enough. Someone competent is coming to take charge. He will tell you what needs to happen to make everything better. And he will listen.

It was that last bit that Truth reckoned was the secret sauce. Even if you walked into the room knowing exactly what their problem was and how you would solve it, spending a couple of minutes giving someone your focused attention did something for them. He didn’t know if it was the illusion of control on their part, or the magic of having someone of high status really listening to you for once.

It was a pretty interesting afternoon. When his shift was up, he pulled the resident and head nurse to one side. “Who’s his supervisor?” Truth asked the nurse.

“Doctor Frink.”

“Alright, I’m writing out orders for what’s-his-name here,”

“Bill. My name is Bill-”

“Please. Please don’t talk. Save your old school at least a little face.” Truth resolutely turned his back on the reeling resident, and continued talking to the nurse.

“This Bro is presenting with clinical malnourishment and parasomnia, including insomnia, with comorbidities including audio, visual and sensory hallucinations, memory dysfunction, slurred speech, delayed reaction time, paranoia, ocular dysfunction and loss of motor control. Given that he presents a significant danger to patients and himself, I am ordering him a week’s bedrest, and a hospital supplied six extra protein rations a day.” The nurse was nodding along, jotting notes down on a pad. Truth pressed on.

“He is to be prescribed 25 ml Valeri-Somm or generic equivalent before bedtime for the first two days, not to exceed three days without reevaluation from Feelings-Bro. He is not to return to work until the course of treatment is completed and he can be recertified as safe to work by Feelings-Bro and Brain-Bro.” The nurse finished jotting it down on her pad and nodded, with a definite gleam in her eye.

“What... what is going on?” Asked the bewildered Bill.

“Thank you for stepping in, Doctor. I didn’t feel like it was my place to say anything.”

“Of course.” Truth gently put a hand on the back of the resident’s head and subtly ran Cup and Knife, knocking him out.

“A bed might be a bit much to ask, but is there a linen closet you could shove Bill-Bro into for ten to twelve hours?” He asked, as he guided the unconscious Bill onto a gurney.

“Sure. Wonderfully soft blankets in Closet 2-1093. I’ll make some room for him. About time those bums woke up anyway.”

“How’s the suicidal kid?”

“With psychiatric now. We didn’t need to sedate him, restrain him... he’s been no trouble, really. So. I don’t know. I guess that’s promising.”

“Well. It’s a start. And tell Frink from me that the next time he pulls a stunt like this, he better stick to walking on crowded streets.”