The Patient Who Could Not Recover

A shaft of dusty light vertically suspended the young graduate. A punishing boot of stiff plastic contained ser terrible wound, now clean, but ceaselessly dripping like a hungry critter’s mouth. The young graduate would soon learn why and how Sie arrived in this dank and most sorry of places, but for now the mist kept ser sedated.

As the door heaved open, dim, sickly light, moaned in from the hallway to expose floor to ceiling tiles, grimy from years of screams and anguish. The squeaky wheels of a medicinal trolley followed, jiggling with vials, pipettes, elixirs – all pushed by a tall, unapologetic figure, whose mountain of craze-curled hair cast an impressively chaotic shadow as Sie entered. The door closed oppressively, as Sie brought the trolley to a stop. Sie rummaged through the top tray, then two squirts of Spicy Awakening Elixir were birthed into the air, hotly eager to acquaint the young graduate’s dewy flesh.

“Where...? Wherefore - HOT!!” the young graduate squawked, followed by yelps of anguish. The tall figure spoke with a deep, gravelly confidence honed by years of bearing witness to unbridled suffering, “You’ve come to. Good.” The graduate, considerably younger in years and brains carried on, making no effort to contain ser discomfort. The tall figure, less than impressed, continued, “Fret not, the Spicy Awakening Elixir will soon subside and then we can get started. You are a patient in the Korper Regulation Recovery Haus. You may address me as Schwester Fedenka for you are now in my care. The spice should subside in approximately 3, 2, 1...” Just like that, gasps and sweats ceased.

Schwester Fedenka perfectly timed the patient’s next experience, “Then, you will feel your injury” – and indeed, the patient thereafter commenced an even more feeling-filled display of helpless pain expression.

However, such a time-wasting performance of discomfort was gnawing away at Schwester Fedenka’s precious minutes and patience. It would be necessary to resort to ear torture. An immediate, ripping, horrendously burrowing sound penetrated the patient’s grey matter! How it panged! Pausing the sound momentarily, Schwester Fedenka cheerfully requested the patient to calm serself or the sound would occur again. The patient tried to get a grip on ser tormentuous limb pain, but impetuous yelps escaped ser speech hole. Schwester Fedenka pressed the torture sound again. How much worse it was the second time - the patient feared ser brains would wobble out of ser cranium, like jelly jiggling out of a heart shaped locket. Sie tried to hold ser breath and hoped it would all dissolve, but like unruly hiccups, it did not.

A change of tactic was needed if Schwester Fedenka was to get to the next patient punctually: Patient Patrice must make approved singing sounds to strangle the anguish. “Come let us sing away this pain - Hymn Fourth! In the name of peace.” Together they sang:

No fear, no fear,

Mother, mother is near.

Be free, Sie wants us to be free.

Belong - give so you belong.

Ahhhh

For the patient, these ahhs provided a necessary, piercing release. But Schwester Fedenka would not tolerate such unMotherly sounds. Sie firmly requested, “Approved singing sounds Patient Patrice.” The patient tried with all ser might, terrified at the consequences of disobeying the Schwester. Sie sang the next verse, somewhat more acceptably:

No fear, no fear,

Mother, mother is near.

With cheer - with cheer,

Mother is near.

Hmmmm, hmmm

Though the pain still fired through ser korper, the song had tamed ser speech hole - for now.

“That is more Motherly, thank you kindly Patient Patrice. I will take the liberty of reminding you, I am Schwester Fedenka. Have you any queries for me?” Patient Patrice had many questions – so many! But they were swiftly interrupted by professional calmness, “Patient Patrice, you took a tumble celebrating a little too hard during your graduation party and damaged your lower left extremity. Luckily, a Mother Administrations bureaucrat sounded the alarm and the spill was swiftly contained.” Well, that explained the boot and the horrific pain in ser limb. But Schwester Fedenka was not finished. Sie turned to face Patient Patrice, clamped ser attention with a steadfast gaze and sliced through Patrice’s pain with a fresh terror…

“What we discovered whilst you were sedated were the results of your secret efforts to cultivate a very square and angular korper. This, as I am sure you are aware, is strictly forbidden - or have you forgotten the Official Graduation speech already? I know not how these forbidden exercises continue to be passed down from pupil to pupil, but just when we think they have been forgotten, someone like you appears with… square shoulders and…chiselled limbs – threatening to disturb the peace with your angular, anger-filled ways!”

There was no point in denying it. No point stitching together a threadbare story to shift the blame. Patrice was once a simple, promising pupil of the Mother Administrations with everything to live for… but Sie was tempted. Once Sie tasted a sense of ser true self, once Sie realised that yes, Sie really was angular deep down, ser korper did not belong to the soft, round circular world, Sie became convinced that angular was the way to be – even if Sie got caught it didn’t matter anyway, it was worth it to know, to feel –

“I must now read to you from the Korper Regulation Policy.” Schwester Fedenka’s craggy, cut-through tone brought Patient Patrice back, but Sie sent the patient another grabbing glare, just to be sure, before reading from the clear floating glass that hovered near the trolley.

“The Mother Administrations require korpers to comply with regulations which are specified as follows: shape of the korper is to resemble roundness, softness.... Any breach in the korper regulations will result in restraint and immediate treatment to restore it to its approved state…. Resistance to treatment may result in the korper being returned to the Mother. We are not warriors, nor do we cultivate them in our korpers. In the name of peace.”

It was not the first time Patient Patrice had heard this policy read aloud, but it was the first time it spoke to ser. These rules – who created such a thing? Why wasn’t everyone free to shape their korper in a way that felt right and true to them?

“If you have a response I am required include it in your File of Recalcitrance. Speak if you do.”

Schwester Fedenka was so firm, so utterly disinterested in a discussion, yet so nice about it all. It was a disconcerting combination. Patient Patrice wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all: just minutes ago Sie had awoken in a fog of terror and spice – now, Sie was being asked to respond to charges of a most serious nature. However, Sie felt certain Schwester Fedenka could – and would – have ser aborted if it all got too difficult. Sie shook ser head.

“Very well. If you accept full responsibility for your recalcitrance and surrender wholeheartedly to treatment for your angular korper, the treatment for your wound will commence thereafter.”

As Patient Patrice took a moment to replay that in ser head, Schwester Fedenka responded with a speed and laconic boredom that suggested Sie could read Patient Patrice’s thoughts, “Yes Patient Patrice, I will withhold attending to your wound until your korper complies with korper regulations.” Before a protesting thought even twitched in Patrice, Schwester Fedenka clarified the alternative, “Or, I can leave this room, your pain will increase as the hours tick by, you will hyperventilate in agony and choke yourself into aborting before the next morrow.”

Patient Patrice was already so worn down, it took only one breath for ser resignation. “There, you have some Motherly spirit in you after all,” the Schwester said, as if offering some small token of appreciation. How comparatively pleasant Patrice’s old, soft life seemed now.

The Schwester went to the trolley and fetched ser earpads. Sie explained as Sie made ser way to the screen and shaped the ear pads over ser noodles of hair, “First, I need to check your reflex. I will start with asking you a simple question. You must answer fully, wholeheartedly, until you are empty.” With what little Patient Patrice had left, that oughtn’t take long.

“Patient Patrice, can you please describe to me your experience when you enacted the forbidden physical exercises?” Sie was accustomed to the puzzled look patients always gave ser at this point and assured Patrice it was part of the treatment. Patrice took a deep breath and dug into the depths of ser desires.

“I… I felt… such… power. I felt moistness emanating from my head, my limbs, my whole korper! It was MY korper, MINE! Such sharpness I never felt – such clarity I never felt – and I could feel the pulsing from my INSIDES! MY INSIDES, could crush the Mother and escape ser lies!” Dutifully, Sie completed, empty.

Fedenka noted on Patient Patrice’s file: “severe damage to reflex. I*****S referenced thrice, with ease and wholeheartedness. Success uncertain. Reflex repair will be attempted.” Sie swerved for the the trolley and prepared the medicines, long plastic stems carrying blue into one vial, green into another and some other colours Patrice couldn’t quite see.

Meanwhile, Patrice’s thoughts went to the others – was Sie was the only one who got caught? Would they think to question Terrip, Laylor or the worst of them all, Fitch?

Without warning, Schwester Fedenka appeared within breathing distance of Patient Patrice. Patrice was equal parts captivated and petrified seeing the towering Schwester so close. Ser black eyes showed no signs of pity, but held ser still, firm, with clear confidence. Sie never knew someone to possess such severity, yet simultaneously engender absolute trust.

“Please open your speech hole.” The Schwester clarified, “This is the only time in your korper loan you will be required to experience a substance entering your speech hole. It may be strange but is the most efficient way for the elixir to reach the damaged reflex directly. Hold it open until I say so.” The command reached Patient Patrice’s grey matter with a credulity that sprung ser speech hole open immediately. Two drops of the green liquid splashed into Patient Patrice’s speech hole. It stung, it slung around in there, finding deeper and deeper, more porous places to burrow. A few more drops followed, then the Schwester returned the empty vial to the trolley, leaving the patient and ser speech hole agape. Taking a few moments longer than necessary, “I say so. Now, please resume your description, starting where you ended.”

Patient Patrice made ser best attempt, “I could feel my INS-” but was overcome with an urge to cough.

The Schwester requested again, say the same. Patrice complied, “I could feel my in-sssahhh!”

The Schwester requested one more time. Patrice heaved, “My InSaaahhiiiDES! My Insiiiiides! INSIDES! YES!”

Ser excitement at ser accomplishment was soon quietened by a seething dread that slithered silently along each tile. “What is it Schwester?” With the steadiness of an ice sheet the Schwester explained, “I’m afraid I shall have to refer you on. Your fate will be determined by Superior Tostril.”

Patrice flung into full grovel, so sorry Sie was! Schwester Fedenka replied, “It is not my wish, but I have offered all the care I am allowed.” The problem was that Patrice did not feel motherly enough. Sie would need to undergo more radical treatment to attempt to restore ser korper to its peace-filled, approved state. Schwester Fedenka explained simply, “It is not your korper, Patient Patrice. It is the Mother’s.” Sie suggested Patient Patrice think on ser hymn, activated the mist, and accompanied the squeaky wheels out.

Patient Patrice battled the hazy, heavy sleep that started to envelop ser, crying out! Even as the mist engulfed ser faculties, ser insides continued to scream, as a desperate, “It is not my korper, it is the Mother’s! I will keep it soft and round! I will Schwester!...I swear, from my insides!”