Date: September 15, 1981
CC: Male, estimated age 27, admitted to HPF9 for assessment of disordered behavior and violent outbursts.
HPI: The patient had been reported missing by a supervisor after failure to report to his workplace. He was discovered two weeks later in an abandoned residence, apparently inhabiting the cellar. He became violent when approached and had to be physically and chemically restrained before he could be taken into custody and stabilized. Patient's affect is flat and withdrawn, with intermittent confusion and agitation. Spontaneous speech is hostile, but he responds appropriately when prompted.
PE: Severe dehydration, IV fluids administered. Blood labs accompany report. Minor lacerations, contusions and taser burns treated with DAS gel during transport. Patient's left arm had been surgically amputated in the past a few inches distal from the glenohumeral joint and replaced with a cybernetic. The cybernetic arm was detached before transport. Attachment plate and socket remain in place.
PTA: ALKESWH restraints. Haloperidol, 10mg IM; Ketamine HCl, 500mg IM; Succinylcholine, 50mg, IV; Midazolam, 5 mg IV; Hexval, 25mg IV x1 push; Propanolol HCl, 5mg IV push x2 for agitation.
Dr. Jezeric's eyes widened. He skimmed the page on his clipboard again. It was rare, but he'd seen patients before who had been so violent that they'd also had to be locked into restraints at almost every joint. But every one of the medications this patient had been given was an overdose. How was he supposed to assess someone who was so full of drugs that he was probably unconscious? He sighed and turned toward the heavily armed and armored guard. "All right, I'm ready."
The officer shifted his rifle to speak into his shoulder mic and rattled off a string of codes that Dr. Jezeric didn't understand. The cylindrical locks on the reinforced steel entry gave several muted clacks as they withdrew, then the door thrust forward a few inches with a pneumatic hiss and ponderously opened. "This way, Doctor," the guard said respectfully, and stepped aside. "I must remind you not to reach past the bars, or allow any objects to do so."
"Of course," the doctor said with a thin smile. The warning was standard when entering containment with aggressive patients like these, but he always took it seriously. Even fumbling a pen could be a lethal mistake.
To his astonishment, and no small admiration, the patient was conscious enough to glare belligerently from the slightly reclined restraint chair when the doctor entered, and he was very glad to note that the man was bound with metal-reinforced cuffs. His left shoulder was latticed with old scar tissue around the huge metal implant that had supported the missing cybernetic arm. The history given on the intake reports was routinely made up of "facts-only" understatements, but the measures that had been needed to subdue him were obvious. He was bruised purple and bloody with cuts that probably needed better treatment than the sealing gel that had been hastily sprayed over them. Blood had even dried into his hair. The doctor noted some four sets of taser burns that he could see. And the reports didn't mention that he was clenching and unclenching his single forearm and bicep, attempting to work the intravenous line out of his arm even though he could not move his elbow. The doctor sat on the steel chair that had been molded as part of the floor and said, "My name is Dr. Jezeric. What's your name?"
"Haywood."
"Haywood," the doctor repeated, jotting the name on the line. "Do you know your last name?"
"Yeah. Haywood Jamblomie." The man smirked through the blood on his mouth.
"That's funny," Dr. Jezeric said, nodding good-humoredly and writing the vulgar name near the bottom of the page this time instead of the top. Though the patient had no way to see the page, he was watching intently, so the doctor took his time to finish. "You have an American accent."
"You have a Sokovian accent," the patient challenged.
"I am Sokovian. Now, are you an American?"
The man did not answer, but his eyes simmered with ferocity of a jungle cat crouched in the shadows, waiting for his prey to take a misstep. Dr. Jezeric sighed. "There is no need to be so stubborn. I want to help you."
"Loosen up these straps," the patient replied with another calculated, irritating grin. "That would help a lot."
At this point, Dr. Jezeric did nothing more than leisurely doodle a flower in the margin of the form, but he could almost feel the patient's gaze following his hand. He sat quietly, waiting. Sometimes silence could be as meaningful as speech. After a minute or two, the man seemed to have difficulty keeping his attention focused, and his eyelids fluttered, almost closed, and then flew open again. "Still writing, huh?" he snapped.
"I am going to write whether you talk or not," the doctor answered, adding a bit of shadow to the edge of a flower petal. "If you just want to rest, that's fine. Or we can talk about something else."
Silence.
Dr. Jezeric shrugged. "I am supposed to ask you a set of questions, like 'What is the date?' and 'Do you know why you are here?' But I doubt that you are going to answer any of them. So, since you won't trust me, I'll give you some information instead. Today is September 15, 1981."
For the first time, the patient's cockiness cracked a little, and he looked surprised. "Nineteen…eighty…?"
"Eighty-one. We are in a special hospital unit just outside of Paris. Your boss called the police when you did not report in for work two weeks ago. Apparently, you are normally a very conscientious employee, and your absence alarmed him. Do you remember your job?"
The intense stare hollowed and drifted to the ceiling, looking far beyond into nothing. Though the patient could not move his head, a muscle flexed in his jaw. "What was I doing?" he asked.
"I don't have that on the report, but it shouldn't be too hard to find out, if you would like to know."
He sighed, and looked back at the doctor with a scowl. "I'm getting tired."
Dr. Jezeric chuckled. "In the very short time I have interacted with you, I take it that means you wish to end the interview for now." He tucked the clipboard under one arm and stood. "I understand. I will return in a few hours. Some people will come shortly to take a better look at your wounds, and give you something to eat if you want it. I hope you will cooperate with them."
"What if I don't?" the patient growled. He tried to rotate his wrist in the restraining band, but couldn't.
"Nothing." Dr. Jezeric answered with a shrug. "If you don't want to eat, you aren't going to be force-fed or anything like that. No one has any intention of hurting you here. We really do want to help you." He pushed a button near the exit that signaled to the guard. A slotted bolt slid open, and the doctor waited patiently while the guard scanned the area to make sure he was secure. Then the locks withdrew, and the door hissed open.
As the elevator ascended to his office floor, Dr. Jezeric wrote his orders. ALKESWH restraints to be maintained. Continue medications at current levels.