Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-33904527-20181023000626

Daniel lay on his bed, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. The gown he wore was stiff and uncomfortable. Perhaps it was made cheaply. But why? Was the hospital low on funds? Maybe. It would explain the lack of voices around the building. Understaffed, most likely. The bed was also quite hard. But that could be a method of treatment. The radio said something a few months ago about the density of beds contributing to recovery status.

Daniel’s attention was brought to the sound of footsteps echoing down the hall, approaching his room. Judging by the pace of the footsteps, Daniel surmised that it was someone coming to see him. A nurse? No, those were heavy footsteps, and the nurses here were delicate and quiet. A janitor? No, the squeak of the floor under the footsteps indicated it had been cleaned recently. It must be a doctor. But which one?

“Good evening, Mr…?” The man spoke as he entered the room. Yes, it was a doctor. Dr Fletcher.”

“Holdsworth. But you can call me Daniel. I don’t believe we’ve met, Dr Fletcher, but I suppose I can call you Jerry?”

Daniel sensed that Dr Fletcher was taken aback by his words. He placed something on a nearby table and sat down.

“Yes, that’s quite right. How did you-”

“It’s quite simple, really.” Daniel interrupted. “There’s a patient next to this room named Lucy Fletcher. She refers to you on a first name basis, and despite being obligated to serve all patients equally, you check on her far more than anyone else. Why is this? Well, it could be that she’s your fiancé/wife, but often, you leave earlier than most people, indicating you already have a fiancé/wife to get home to, maybe even children. Maybe she’s a good friend of yours, but that wouldn’t explain how when you link her illness to blood relations, you say ‘our’ family instead of ‘your’ family.”

Daniel could strongly make out the amplified noise of the fluorescent lighting as silence overtook the room for a few seconds, before Dr Fletcher spoke up again.

“Yes, that’s…right. All of that is…right. Well done, I suppose.”

There was a brief interval where the scratching of a blue, ballpoint pen in need of an ink change could be heard on top of a clipboard. The brief movements indicated that Dr Fletcher was ticking off a checklist on his clipboard. Most likely a checklist of symptoms.

“Now, Daniel, I wanted to talk to you about-”

“Hey Jerry, did you know that with our understanding of physics it’s actually impossible for you to have walked to my room in two ways? The first being how movement itself is a compilation of single moments in time-”

“Daniel…”

“-and in one moment of time, nothing can move. So, how could you move if every action you make is immovable in the slot of time it takes place in? The second is that if you were to walk halfway down the corridor, before-” “Daniel, please.”

“-you could walk halfway, you’d have to walk a quarter of the way, and before that, you’d have to walk a fifth of the way. This string of fractions continues infinitely, mathematically meaning that you’d never even get 1 millionth of the way to my room. Also-”

“Daniel!”

Daniel became quiet and still as Dr Fletcher’s loudened tone bounced into his ears.

“Hmmm. Not very professional of you to yell at a patient, is it, Jerry?”

“It’s Dr Fletcher. And stop trying to distract me. You know what I’m here to talk to you about.”

Daniel scoffed.

“My ‘condition’?” He replied in a babyish voice, mocking Dr Fletcher’s words.

“Yes, Daniel, your condition. That’s why you’re here. Do you know what your condition is?”

Daniel slammed his fist down onto his bedside table, knocking over a glass of water.

“Don’t patronise me, Jerry.” Daniel’s tone was calm, but icy cold.

“Or you might find that my ‘condition’ will worsen.”

There was a faint squeaking, most likely of Dr Fletcher’s chair as he must’ve reached over for the clipboard again.

“Ah, yes, the clipboard. Not a problem-solver, but a problem documenter. Tells you exactly what’s going on with a patient through your own interpretation. A mirror of information. But don’t you ever think that your experience might not even be the right one?”

Dr Fletcher stopped writing.

“What do you mean, ‘the right one’?”

Daniel smiled smugly.

“I don’t really know. You could ask me for my point of view, but then again, you’ve got your clipboard, haven’t you? Maybe you should write it down and figure out what it means later, Jerry.”

Dr Fletcher threw down the clipboard and scowled.

“It’s not Jerry. Don’t call me Jerry. Me and you are not…”

The clattering of a pen dropping to the floor attracted Daniel’s attention more than Dr Fletcher’s outcry did.

“Getting nervous, Jerry?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Aw, come on. Let’s not kid around here. You’re in a room with an insane person; the pressures get to you sometimes. I don’t blame you. By the raspy sound of your voice, I’d say you’ve been up late for the past few weeks doing work on me handed down to you by the fed-up higher-ups who can’t be bothered dealing with me anymore. Honestly, I don’t blame them. Sometimes it’s more relaxing to just give all your problems to a newbie.”

Dr Fletcher stammered as he went to pick up his pen.

“I didn’t…that’s not…ugh!” He murmured something to himself.

“Don’t murmur, Jerry. I like it when I hear things without people knowing that I hear them, and if I don’t hear something with people knowing I don’t hear them, it makes me ANGRY.”

Daniel’s tone increased very suddenly, catching Dr Fletcher by surprise. There was a lengthy silence, before Dr Fletcher spoke up in a calm voice.

“Why did you tear out your eyes, Daniel?”

Daniel chuckled. Lightly at first, but building up into a fierce cackle that bounced off the walls in all directions, filling the room.

“Do you…honestly think…being blind…is a weakness? A concern? Something to be fixed, or corrected, or altered? Blindness is a super-power. Have you ever bitten into an apple, or sniffed a flower, or listened to the rain on a cold autumn night? It’s good, isn’t it? Try doing all those things again, but blind. It’s like being on drugs. An action does not come without a reaction.”

Froth was beginning to pool in the corner of Daniel’s mouth.

“And what exactly do you mean by that, Daniel?” Dr Fletcher continued. “Sacrifice a sense and rejoice in the enhancement of others. The energy your brain would waste on a puny outlet like vision is re-directed to every other method of feeling something that you have. Long gone are the days of corneas and pupils! Who needs sight when your sense of smell rivals that of a dog, or your taste-buds can individually detect the sweet or sour particles of a foodstuff?"

“What about paintings, or scenery, or television? Don’t you ever miss-”

Shooting up from his bed, Daniel’s limbs began to shake and tremor. He was breathing through his teeth.

“Don’t you get it?! These things are mere baubles, distractions. Sight is overrated. No-one truly sees anything. They just look. They look, and gawp, and take pictures. It’s boring, somehow more boring then forever staring into a colourless void!”

Daniel pointed a finger at his eye socket.

“You’re no different. You and everyone else. Everybody always thinks they’re so special. They couldn’t be more wrong. Humans are becoming more of a hive mind with each passing day. The things we say and do become so scripted they blend into each other until eventually, we realise we’re all living the same miserable existence. But I get it. You can’t hide things from me. I’m innocent, but a freak. Lock me up away from society because I’m not like everyone else. It’s sickening. A violation of human rights. Ever since I killed that stupid groundhog!”

Suddenly, Daniel felt a sharp object press into his arm. He opened his chapped lips to cry out, but was overcome by a powerful wave of exhaustion. Dr Fletcher stood over him cautiously, moving his head back onto the soft pillow. Daniel’s limbs became limp and his breathing slowed to long sighs.

“There you go, pal. The boss says we’re trying something new today. Maybe it’ll heal that melted mind of yours.”

Dr Fletcher smiled from the corner of his mouth. Taking one last look at Daniel, he collected the clipboard from the table and left the room.

“Hey, Jerry!”

“Oh, hi Susan.”

Looking up from the doorway, Jerry spotted his colleague ambling past the rooms toward him at a brisk pace.

“Did you just finish up with Daniel?”

“Yeah, just a second ago. Quite a colourful character. It’s a shame how unlikely it is he’ll be cured.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Susan glanced at the clipboard.

“Oh, so you’re still following the script, then?”

Jerry shrugged.

“More or less. It’s always a little different each time I come in, though. Sometimes I follow it word for word, other times I improvise.”

“That’s kinda weird. You should be an actor. Is Daniel still using the codeword?”

“Sadly, yes. It always gives me the shivers when he says it. I guess it’s how similar they both are. Big heads, no necks, small legs, large torsos. Sometimes I really do get the creeps in that room.”

“Sounds awful. Glad I don’t have to deal with him. Did you make any changes to his medication yesterday?”

“Just one.”

“Oh?”

“We made him think he had no eyes.” 