Ch. 18: A Professional Diagnosis
"You volunteered for treatment, and I strongly believe you can be helped, but you're going to have to co-operate. I don't think you understand what I mean by this either. Please, just listen."
"I don't! I don't need help! Not from you, I need a priest or-or a nun, anyone with a connection to the Lord. I told them that and now I'm telling you!
"And I'm informing you of the danger you're putting yourself into by entertaining fantasies about mythical creatures."
"I must repent! I've done wrong and I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
"You are having a nervous breakdown, we can help you."
"I've told you everything! How do you not believe? You saw the scratch marks, the bruises, the destruction!"
"Sir, you need-"
And there was more shouting, crying, and exasperated sighs. People are exhausting, to say the least. How he got stuck acquiring information from the witnesses, he'll never know, but it's not like anyone else would do the job right. Had he been the one to do the measurements in the lab, they wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. Don't send your colleagues to finish your work, a piece of advice he would gladly share to anyone listening. At last, Robert opened the door to relieve him for the day.
"About time," he muttered. He passed room after room down the dimly lit corridor. It reeked of cleaning chemicals and body fluids. The assistants greeted him shyly and he absently nodded in acknowledgment. His fine leather boots made loud clunks against the tiled floor, a boring droll of sound echoing through a boring grey medical building. He reached the staircase at the end of the hall and once the door to the hall closed he raked a hand over his face.
"Useless! All of it! All of them! This town,no, this world is filled with useless, bloody morons!" He growled and flailed his arms about. What had his life come to? He was having a temper tantrum in a third rate hospital ward, with his own work plotting against him wishing it was only his colleagues set out to ruin him. "If only they had the brains," he mused bitterly. There was distant shuffling coming from behind the door, followed by rushed apologies in a nervous voice. Christ, they sent the goddamn student. Not soon after, a young man struggling with a stack of papers entered the corridor. He had short, brown hair that was sticking out in odd angles. His oversized light brown dress jacket and pants clashed with his green-striped dress shirt that wasn't all the way tucked in. His eyes were large and dark, making him appear twelve instead of twenty.
"Mister?"
"Doctor, refer to me as—"
"Dr. Hailwart."
"Yes?"
"Excuse me?"
"What?" he sighed, "What is it? Why are you in my presence?"
"Oh, um, sorry sir! It was just that…Stell wanted me to inform you…of um…hold on one second," he rummaged through the papers desperately. Beads of sweat slid off his face and his hands shook so violently the other man thought the boy would never deliver the message.
"Give me that," the student nearly threw the pile into his arms, "now, explain to me what it is I need to look for in here."
"A full report on yesterday's attempted capture and uh, I think they have a new strategy planned out as well involving—"
"No. I'll find the report, but you go back to Stell and tell that failure that we are going to be smart about this because I'm in charge, here on out."
"Wh-what about th-the professor?"
"Has he been the one implementing the search teams?" he inquired while towering over the boy into cowering below him.
"N-n-no."
"And designing the new machinery?"
"Well, he…"
"Did he investigate the sightings, the witnesses, or even the possible hideouts?"
"No, I suppose not."
"And with him doing nothing but sit at his desk, we have been falling on our asses trying to find some semblance of structure. I say, the professor is unfit for this job."
"Will you bring this up to the administrators?"
"Let's not make this more complicated than it is. Aright lad?"
"Understood."
"Tell Stell to meet at the fifth rendezvous point. Tell the others to keep a twenty foot radius away from the experiments when sighted. Everyone is on observation watch."
"So-o-o-o, we're following them now, correct?"
"Precisely, we've done enough damage. It matters not how many people see them now, it's recovery and accuracy we're concerned on. We cannot tolerate failure here on out."
"Dully noted."
"Excellent, now go. Go! Spread the good news!" he laughed enthusiastically. The student hurried off after a misplaced salute, leaving the doctor in tense silence. He shook his head and wore a deep frown as he descended the staircase. In the privacy of the lower levels, he hunched over the railings with a heavy cough. It felt like his airways were trying to clear themselves of soot even though they were already made of ash. His eyes grew redder by the second and he fell to his knees. The doctor fumbled for the vile in his pocket, his breaths coming out in hoarse gasps. At last, the shiny little glass piece was released and he picked up the dropper to his mouth. A minuscule, golden drop melted on his tongue and he began to tremble. His body convulsed for a minute before he shot up to his feet, rejuvenated.