The
Job
by Westel
I knew it was going to happen from the start. One of the downfalls of my position, see? He was on a mission of mercy, yeah, but that don't count for nothin', not in the overall Plan. Heck, it took me a coupla thousand Earth-years to finally realize that it ain't what you do, it's what ya are.
But I digress…
I'm in charge of quite a few now—couldn't tell ya how many overall; it's been too long—but I suppose there're more 'n thirty currently in my care. They keep me hoppin', that's for sure, but I like what I do. That's why I'm tellin' you this story, see. This guy, this paramedic fella, he's one of my group.
Now don't get me wrong! I ain't in charge of him 'r anything like that. More like I just hang around to see if I'm needed. Try doin' that for thirty people! 'Course I'm equipped—all of us are very well-equipped for the work we do. We don't get tired, for instance; don't need to take bathroom breaks, that kind of thing. I guess you could say it's my job t'see that nothin' happens to this guy unless the Big Guy allows it.
I know—I know, I digress again. Keep yer shirt on, will ya? I'm just tryin' ta set it up, like, so you can understand a little better.
OK, so this guy, this paramedic DeSoto, he's runnin' fit to fly along some rocks, goin' for help for some other guy who's been hurt—not one of mine, or I'd really have had trouble on my hands… Anyway, he's runnin' hard, and he's not bein' careful as he usually is—I usually don't have to do much for DeSoto—'course there was that time in 'Nam, and that other time when he got electrocuted, but still an' all…
All right, all right! Boy, you don't like details, do you? I'll cut to the chase…
Roy's runnin' along these rocks and his toe snags on a piece of rock—well, it ain't like runnin' along a sidewalk now, is it? So, he's runnin' downhill, full-out, and when he catches the toe of his shoe on that uneven rock, there ain't nothin' he can do but try and roll. He's trained, see, and knows what to do in case of accidents 'n stuff.
But he was runnin' too fast, and the down-slope was too steep. I fairly cringed when he hit; heard the big bone snap in his leg. He was still tryin' to slow his fall—Roy's a fighter—when his shoulder jounced right outa th' socket. I hafta tell ya, if I hadn't had strict orders, I'd've stopped things right there 'n then. What? Don't ask me! It ain't my decision as to what happens t'some folks and what happens to others. Sheesh! You'd think I was the Big Guy or somethin'! Hey, BG knows what he's doin' and don't need me to poke my nose into it! That happened once before, thousands of Earth-years ago, and believe you me, some major housekeeping went on after that! 'Course, I didn't…
Huh? Oh, yeah. Okay, that's another story, I'll admit, but it's a doozy. Maybe later I'll… All right, all right… Get your eyebrows off your cheekbones!
So Roy rolls right on down to the bottom of the hill and, wouldn't you know it, he bangs his head on this big rock and doesn't move a muscle. Not a muscle—not a twitch! But he was alive, else I'd know it. So I go to him and wait for orders. I kinda hoped they'd come soon—waitin' in cases like these is really hard. I got feelin's, you know. And my job is to help. It's hardest when helpin' is just waitin'.
'Okay, Big Guy,' I says. 'Tell me what to do.' To my surprise, I get my answer right away.
'Stay with him,' he tells me. 'Comfort him,' he says.
'Me?' I says. Now, don't get me wrong. When the B.G. speaks, I listen, and I do. No questions. But in my line of work, up til this case anyway, I'd always been a doer—a fixer, a messenger, an escort—that sort of thing. But comfort? Hadn't had too much experience with it. Guess I always assumed the B.G. knew my weakness and allowed me to work in areas best suited. But this time was different, and I wasn't the least comfortable about it, no sir.
'Yes, you,' he said, sorta with a little chuckle, and that was that. I had my orders.
Now, this next part might be a little hard for you to picture, you bein' mortal and three-dimensional, but I'll try.
Roy's right up against this rock. His brain's been banged around and he's got a pretty good cut and goose-egg on the back of his skull. His shoulder's out, there're two or three cracked ribs, and the big leg-bone is snapped, so he's already bled out a pint or so into his thigh. Now you'd call him unconscious, but I know there are lots of levels of consciousness. Naturally, so does the Big Guy, and he knew what Roy needed the most.
I move in behind Roy, between him and the rock, and between him and the dirt ground. Yeah, I know that's not physically possible, but I ain't physical, remember? At least not usually. It's a hot day, but he's cold, and all his life-signs are sluggish. So I wrap my arms around him. I have to admit, it was strange—not the arm-wrapping bit, but my holdin' him like that, for a long, long time. I felt somethin', some part of me, go into him. No, you don't understand. I ain't no ghost! I didn't go through him, good grief! Ain't you got any common sense!?!?
Okay, I'm sorry, but humans have got some of the funniest ideas about who and what my kind are. Just let me finish my story—ain't got much more to tell, now.
Anyway, as I'm sittin' there holdin' Roy, I sense part of his mind, and it's racin'. It's thinkin' crazy thoughts—about his family, his partner, his job—just runnin' and racin' from thought to thought. I could tell it 'as wearin' on him, causin' him more stress, 'n I just tried to make him feel that he doesn't have to worry about anything, that help was on the way.
As time went on, maybe an hour, maybe two in your time, I realized Roy had moved into a lighter level of unconsciousness. This was a good thing, sure, but it also meant he'd begun to feel pain, even though he wasn't all awake yet. The B.G. hadn't told me to work on anything, so all I could do was hold on t'him and wrap my arms around him a little better. Truth is, I didn't think I was doin' much to help the poor man, but he did seem to relax a little, and once the other people came and found him, it didn't take him long after that to wake up.
'Course I stuck around—I always stick around—and I heard some of the conversations Roy had with his friends 'n family during visits at the hospital. Something Roy said to his wife (yep, you guessed it; she ain't mine—I tell ya, the B.G. knows what he's doin'!). He told her that, long before he even woke up, he had the sense that he was bein' looked after, taken care of. I couldn't help but grin at that.
'Cause that's how it starts sometimes. People get the feelin' that they're watched over, then they get the feelin' that there's something bigger than themselves out there. Then one things leads t'another and, first thing you know, they got a much better picture of who my kind is and who the Big Guy is. Believe me, until they do, they simply got no idea!!
Well, that's the end of my story, except t'say that Roy's fine now, back at work. He's been thinkin' about stuff, and talkin' to his partner about this feelin' he has—hah!
Hey, and you know what? I'm gettin' a few more jobs comfortin' people these days—ain't that somethin'?
And even better yet…
I kinda like it!!
The End