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2075 ROBCO(R)

LOADER V1. 1

EXEC VERSION 41.10

32K RAM SYSTEM

0 BYTES FREE

HOLLOW TAPE LOADED: "THE-RAINBOW"

INITIALISING…

INITIALISING…

FAILURE!

The muzzle flashed; The bolt slammed back, and stayed back. The soldier stopped in his tracks.

"Did you just-"

"Yes."

Immediately, all of the anger washed away, and everything was quiet. The world didn't seem so much like it was screaming at me. The static was gone, and the blood wasn't quite so red. Hands shaking, I dropped the weapon; It felt like a piece of a crime, and I didn't want nothing to do with it no more. The soldier looked up into the sky.

"I've never seen one like that before," he murmured, eyes fixed on something far beyond me. I twisted my neck to look over my shoulder. There was a faint red rainbow out there, standing against the dormant rainclouds. The clouds were red too, but not near as red as that prismatic arc.

"Me neither." We both watched the rainbow for a while. The sunlight burned hot on my cheek, as a million emotions- shame, anger, denial and all the works- flooded through my chest. I heard the soldier sniffle something down. "It… it sounded like it shot. Why didn't it shoot?"

"Must have been bad ammo, sir. There's a whole cartridge caught in the port, bullet and all." The soldier tried to wipe the blood from his mouth, but only succeeded in smearing it more. "Not like I was planning to shoot you anyways…"

"Why not?" He pinched his nose.

"I'm no murderer." I looked away from the rainbow to glare at him.

"You shot Savanna!"

"And you think I don't regret it? I'm sixteen years old, I never even shot at anything before that!"

I huffed and looked the other way. I wasn't gonna talk to him again, but then he pulled up his sleeve, and I saw that something was wrong with his arm; There must have been half a dozen dotted lines running down his forearm, and the skin was red and swollen.

"I'm sorry, sir. Really, I'm sorry about that girl I shot. Everything is just so mixed up, I don't even know what's me, and what's the Psycho anymore! You know?"

I kept on staring at his arm, unconsciously moving to cover up my own. Both were scarred with our mistakes, only I was ready to put mine in the past. He was still screwing up- still hurting people, still hurting himself. Wasn't much hope for his future either. Being hooked on combat stimulants ain't something that you can kick all on your lonesome...

I sighed to myself, and set my eyes on the soldier again.

"Let me see your face," I said. He glanced up at me and our eyes met. I'd never seen eyes like that before- Young eyes with bags under them like an old man's, bright as a couple of little moons, wide and grey and shimmering with fear. His pupils were the size of pennies.

"Why?" he asked me. I shrugged.

"You need help."

I wanted to hate him. I couldn't really forgive him, after what he had done. But I couldn't stay angry neither, couldn't keep the fire up, not after pulling that trigger. I had decided to kill him, and the shame and relief I was feeling now told me that I didn't really want that after all. So what was the point of being angry?

"I'm just going to check you out a little, alright? Make sure you ain't bleeding inside your head or nothing," I explained, kneeling down in front of him. He darted back.

"I'm fine!" he snapped. I shook my head.

"No you ain't." I pressed my finger into his neck. He flinched, but didn't pull away. "You ain't dying, maybe, but you ain't fine neither. What's your name?"

I was met with silence. Enough time passed for a pebble to fall all the way down a long empty well, long enough that you might not even hear it when it finally hit the bottom. The rough pavement began to bite into my knee...

"...Weylin," he said, eventually. I took my finger off his neck; the skin was warm and soaked with sweat, and his heart was going so strong and so fast that I thought it might burst. I covered one of his eyes with my palm.

"Good, Weylin. Now follow my finger..." I checked his other eye, made sure the massive pupil shrank when I took my palm off and let the evening light flood in. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary to me. "Eyes seem good to me. Can you see alright?" He nodded silently. "Alrighty. You feel sick, tingly, or like you got some pressure building up in your head? Do your eyeballs feel like they're gonna pop out?"

He shook his head again. It seemed like he was getting tired of my questions, fidgeting around and looking away from me and all that. So I grabbed my pip-boy off the ground and stood up.

"Well I guess you're probably not bleeding up there, despite my best efforts." He smiled a little. I turned my pip boy back on, found that it wasn't gonna load, and decided to just let it be. I probably didn't need it anyways. Not to go where I was going now, if Weylin would ever get off his ass…

"Alright. Well, let's get going then." Weylin looked surprised. "Gather up them teeth- we're heading out!"

I didn't need to ask him twice. Weylin got down on all fours to search for some of the teeth I'd knocked out, but I could see that he was still looking at me. His eyes were still wide with fear, or confusion, or something like that.

"Well- well okay, sir, but didn't you just say I was fine?" he asked. I shook my head.

"No, I said you wasn't bleeding in your skull! You're the one who keeps saying that you're, "fine," and I have to keep on disagreeing! You're going around harassing doctors in back alleys because of this Psycho addiction, I hardly call that fine!" He glared at me. His eyes were shiny and red now, but that didn't stop me. "So, we're going to take a little hike down to Old Fort Mormon, and we're gonna get you some help! We both agree that you need help, right Weylin?"

"Why are you doing this to me?" he repeated. Tears were starting to make their way down his dirty cheeks, and I felt that ache in my chest again; Why was I helping him? Why didn't I just walk away, or better yet, pick that rifle up and beat him to death with it?

'Because you're just like me, and because you're nothing like me,' I wanted to say. 'Because no one seems to care about you and because somewhere, someone loves you and cares about you and wants to see you again, more than anything else in this stupid goddamn desert! I'm doing it because you're lousy and precious and the universe has let me down, but it let you down too, and I ain't about to let that keep going; I'm doing it cause this here badge is supposed to stand for something, and even though I broke a promise when I pulled that trigger, you're still a problem, and you still need solving, and-

"I told you, you dumb son of a bitch! Because you need help!"

And then he just started sobbing, and I couldn't fault him for that. I couldn't bring myself to try and comfort him either, though, because I didn't forgive him- let's be clear, I never forgave him. I still hear Savanna's wailing in my sleep sometimes, how could I forgive him for that? The badge on my chest said that I was supposed to turn the other cheek, so I took him under my wing. But I couldn't forgive him. I just stood there, silent as a ghost, framed by that bright red rainbow as the last dying light rolled through the lonesome alley, and the bitter tears cleansed his grimy little soul.

-Break-

It was dark when we finally set out; Me, Weylin, and the man I'd turned out to be. It was even darker when we finally reached Fort Mormon, but at least Weylin wasn't crying no more. I couldn't see his face well in the dark, but I'd know if he was crying on account of the noises he'd make. He was silent, shuffling behind me like a zombie.

Up ahead, a bearded guard with a lantern and a coach gun stood watch at the wooden gates. He pointed it at us, and Weylin's eyes went wide with fear.

"Quiet," I said. I heard him choke back the stammers rising from his throat. "It's alright! He'll recognize me..."

"Who's that stumbling around in the dark!?" Shouted the guard. I took my hands out of my pockets.

"Just who the hell do you think it is? It's Isaac Saller, lemme back in!" The Guard didn't lower his scattergun.

"And who's that you got with you?" I glanced over at Weylin. He looked like he was about to start crying again, so I grabbed him by his hand. His fingers felt as hard and cool as a wax statue.

"Oh, This'n here?" His breath hitched. I squeezed his hand tighter. "...Name's Weylin! He needs our services."

The guard lowered his scattergun as we approached him. The yellow light of the lantern had finally reached our faces, and we could all see each other clearly as our eyes shifted from person to person. A solitary gunshot echoed out in the distance.

"Well?" I said, after a moment. The guard grunted.

"Get inside."

And that was that. The gates opened and I led my patient through, into the center of the fortress where all the doctors slept in their closed tents. There were just a few folks still up now, wandering around camp with their half empty beer bottles and crooked glasses glinting in the light of the campfire. None of them seemed to notice me.

Well, none of them except for Aunt Julie that is; As soon as she saw me, she came running up past all the others and threw her arms around me. I'd have been embarrassed about a big hug like that back in Primm, but now I accepted it with the grim countenance of a boy who thinks he's all grown up.

"Christ above, Isaac, stop scaring your poor aunt! I can only take so much," she laughed, but I could tell by the way her voice shook that she'd been crying before. She released me from the hug, and put her hands on my shoulders. I saw her eyes go up and down my newly bloodied coat. "Where have you been? And what did you do?"

"Sorry Aunt Julie. I went for a walk," I replied. She scoffed.

"Well, you told us that much before you left! Where'd all this blood come from? And who's this you brought with you?" I looked over my shoulder. Weylin was still lingering a few yards behind me, scratching at his arm and staring at the sand and cobblestone beneath his feet. I motioned for him to come over.

"Oh, just a patient I picked up. I'll let him introduce himself..."

I waved Weylin over again, and he wandered over to us like a convict to the gallows. His eyes were still full of fear and guilt.

"Hello Ma'am. My name is Weylin," he muttered. Julie smiled at him.

"Well, it's good to meet you Weylin. I'm Doctor Farkas, and I'm the head of the Followers here in the Mojave. Is there something you need from us?"

Weylin bit his lip. "Oh. Well ma'am, I, uh…" He looked at me pleadingly. I shook my head.

"Tell her yourself," I said. He looked away. I saw him clench his fists, saw his throat bulge as he swallowed...

"Well, I just- I'm an addict, right? I think I need some help is all, ma'am!"

And just like that, his muscles relaxed. There were a lot of eyes on us now, and Julie's had gone all wide with surprise, but Weylin didn't seem bothered by it no more. He wasn't smiling, but I could feel the relief in his expression because I felt it back in that alley, when I realized what I had to do. The first step is always a confession.

"...Well, um, that's very brave of you, Weylin! To admit that I mean. Why don't we get you back to the trauma tent to be checked out? I'm sure that someone here can see you," said Julie, shaking the surprise from her voice and raising it to a shout as she looked around at all the other white-coats in the compound. One of the folks who had examined me when I first arrived, an older hispanic man, took Weylin by the shoulder and led him towards the tent. Me and Aunt Julie and a whole lot of doctors looked on as they passed by the campfire, and disappeared between the tent flaps.

"So… that's that?" asked Julie, still just a little bewildered. I nodded.

"That's that." The wrinkles around her eyes deepened. Her eyes, perfect reflections of mine, of mothers, stared on.

"Isaac Saller… You are a mystery to me. You come all this way only to run from us, but you're back before dark with a bunch of bruises and a mysteriously compliant Psycho addict. You act like everything is fine, and then, you- you…" Our eyes met again. She shook her head. "Well, I don't know! What are you going to do now?"

The wind changed direction, and a cloud of white campfire smoke blew over my head. The stars twinkled. The folks who had been watching Weylin were all watching us now, each of them waiting for me to say something, anything. I scratched my chin.

"Well, I reckon I'm probably gonna keep on trying to help. For now, anyways." The silence continued. I tugged at my coat. "...Further-more, now that I've had some time to think, I've decided that I'd like to finally join up with you folks- for real this time. Y'all got room for a new Doctor Saller?" Julie smiled.

"You know that we'll always have room for another Doctor Saller, Isaac! But why now? Are you sure you don't want to take some more time to think?"

"Sure as the sun turns to moon," I replied. And the more I thought on it, the more sure I became. It was a foggy night and I'd lost my glasses, but I could see more clearly than I had in a long time. I had tried adventure, tried violence, and I fear that I'd been getting awful good at it by then. But that life wasn't for me; Weylin had shown me that much when I pulled the trigger on him, that I didn't want to hurt no one. I was a helper. I could see now that I loved the stranger, and when you love someone, the helping comes natural.

"Well, like I said, we'd be happy to have you. I'll see about getting you a better fitting coat," said Julie. She started to go, but I caught her by the shoulder; there was one last thing I had to do.

"Before you go, aunt Julie, I want to make a new promise. Seeing as how much I've broken my old one."

If interest in our conversation had been fading, that brought it all back. Felt like there wasn't an eye in camp that wasn't on us as Aunt Julie put her hand on her heart, and I did the same.

"Do you remember how it goes?" she asked, and I nodded. I've always had a good memory for the important stuff. "Good. Then consider me- well, consider us, your witnesses. You can start whenever you're ready."

I looked around me. It was hard to see everyone in the flickering campfire light, but there must've been at least three dozen men and women gathered to watch me make my promise. Not that it mattered; this wasn't a promise to them, or Aunt Julie, or to any God up above. It was a promise to myself, and it went like this:

"I swear to fulfill, as well as I can, this covenant: that first, I will do no harm…"

There was sweat on my skin already. The hand that I'd placed on my heart- the broken one, with the four long fingers, it was shaking. I pressed it deeper into the fabric of my coat, let the cold metal badge dig into my palm…

"And I- I'm gonna respect what the folks before me learned, and share all that knowledge like it were my own. And I'll apply, for the benefit of the sick, any measures that I've got to, avoiding both the sins of overtreatment, and of therapeutic nihilism..."

I was picking up steam now, and my wording was getting closer to how I'd learned it all those years ago. But, even if I could recall all the words exactly, I wouldn't say them all the same. I wasn't here to recite a poem- I was here to make a promise.

"...I promise to remember that there is art to medicine, as well as science. And that warmth and sympathy and understanding may do better'n the surgeon's knife, or the chemist's drug."

"I promise that I will not be ashamed to say "I don't know," and I certainly won't fail to call in my colleagues when my skills just ain't enough to do right by my patient."

"But most especially, I promise to be careful when it comes to life and death. If I get the honor of saving a life, so be it. But I can not save every life; this ought to be faced with humbleness, and awareness of my own frailty. I ain't God, and I won't start to think of myself as such."

"If I don't break these promises, may I enjoy life and friendship, be respected while I live, and be remembered kindly thereafter..."

I closed my eyes. There was one more line to the promise, one that I hadn't sworn at Father's funeral because I was crying too much by then, and I'd already gotten most of it out. I'd always thought it was a stupid line. But in the light of the dying fire, with memories of Savanna fresh in my heart and the ghosts of my parents looking on over my shoulder, I felt compelled to say it anyways:

"...and even in my darkest hours, clouded and torn as my mind may be,
may I never lose sight of the honor, the joy,
and the unique satisfaction,
of Practicing Medicine."

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