Dr. Thorne retreated to his office on the fourth floor. He looked at his swivel chair and paced from his desk to the door. The outcome of the experiment overjoyed him. He could still see the horror in the patient’s green eyes.
Paralyzed
IV: Meeting With Jakobs
Though not everything had gone according to plan, he had succeeded. A little fine tuning in his processes and his experiment would be perfected. He just needed to remember to keep his eyes on the patient’s vitals—no more watching the blade cut flesh.
His heart was racing, and he could feel the throbbing of blood in his hands. He fell in love with that feeling. Accomplishment. He basked in the glory of his work.
My chemicals worked beautifully.
But of course they did. Why wouldn’t they? It was all a matter of science. The chemicals would work because that’s what they do. There was nothing spooky in the aether—there was no domain that science couldn’t penetrate.
Except, perhaps, my Red Angel. Yes, there was that. He didn’t know what the angel was. But the angel was his. Or he was the angel’s—he didn’t know which.
Dr. Thorne corrected his mind back on course. He was still in the middle of celebrating a massive victory.
He sat down in the chair and kicked his legs up to rest on the desk. He crossed his fingers and leaned his hands on his chest. Then he sighed in relief.
Finally, after racking his brain about how he would sow chaos, after all his preparations, and after all the legwork, he had finished his task. Of course this was just the beginning—a start of the righteous works he would do. But it had been a good start. A good origin for what he would become.
He smirked, closing his eyes to better see the patient. He envisioned the operation once more, piecing together every detail in his mind. The look in her eyes as the blade cuts flesh, he thought. Oh that’s the stuff.
As much as he liked chemicals, he had never used recreational drugs, but he thought this feeling was a one-to-one comparison to opioid abuse.
Dr. Thorne couldn’t imagine his life getting much better than it was now. Got a cushy job, he thought. Got a nice home, and I’ve got the most intriguing leisurely activity on Earth.
He took his large glasses off and rubbed his eyes. Placing his glasses on the desk, he rocked himself in the chair. He thought about inflicting pain, thought about how trapped he had made his victim feel, thought about how he could switch doses up for better results next time.
Ring-ring, ring-ring.
Dr. Thorne nearly jumped out of his chair. He scrambled to get his glasses and put them on.
Ring-ring, ring-ring.
He looked at the name printed on the landline’s neon-green screen: Daniel Jakobs. He sucked air through his teeth.
What does that jackoff want? he thought. Then he remembered the last time Coordinator Jakobs talked with him—he shuddered.
Ring-ring, ring-ring.
“Shit.”
He picked up the phone and brought it to his ear.
“Yes Daniel: do you need something?” He knew Jakobs didn’t like being called by his first name.
“Um doctor, would you come to my office really quick?”
Dr. Thorne bent his lip into a snarl. “Is-is something wrong?”
Silence.
“Just come to my office, Thorne.”
The phone went dead.
This was supposed to be his moment of triumph. How could a day start so good and turn so sour so quickly?
Dr. Thorne got up from his chair and left his office. He walked down the hallways and headed for the elevator. Coordinator Jakobs’ office was on the fifth floor, and he pressed the up button for the elevator.
Chills ran down his body at the sound of the ding and the opening of the doors.
He stepped in and pressed the button for the fifth floor. His mind raced with explanations for why his patient had experienced a traumatic event—certainly that was why he was being summoned to the fifth floor. He could think of no other reason.
Ding.
The doors opened, and he walked heavily toward Jakobs’ office.
“Take a seat,” Coordinator Jakobs said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. He sat behind his marble desk, his legs crossed as he tapped the top of a pen with his right forefinger.
Dr. Thorne sat down and adjusted his large glasses. “How can I help you, Daniel?”
Coordinator Jakobs gave him the slightest sneer. “Do you know why I called you into my office?” He continued tapping the pen.
Dr. Thorne looked around the office as if he was just asked what his opinion was of the white paint. His eyes glanced over the minimalist approach of office decor—the desk plant on his right being one of the few objects of note. He then looked his supervisor in his brown eyes. “I was just going to ask you that very thing, Daniel.”
Coordinator Jakobs smirked this time. He shook his head. “You know, there’s something about you I actually like.” Putting the pen down, he leaned back in his chair.
“Daniel, you aren’t trying to hit on me, are you?” Dr. Thorne said in mock outrage. “That wouldn’t be very professional. Plus I don’t play for the same team.”
Coordinator Jakobs looked away and took hold of one of the dark green leaves of his desk plant. The leaf had crimson veins. He rubbed the leaf between his forefinger and thumb. “I like this plant.” He looked at Dr. Thorne.
He watched as he continued to rub the leaf. He briefly thought his superior was trying to weird him out. Not going to work, Daniel.
“Do you know what this plant is called?”
“If you wanted to talk about plants, you should’ve called a botanist into your office,” he said smirking. “But you called me.”
Coordinator Jakobs took a deep breath. “It’s a Nerve Plant. I thought it would be… ironic for the coordinator of anesthesiology to have a Nerve Plant on his desk—so I got one.”
“I… I don’t care,” Dr. Thorne said with an exasperated exhale. “Either tell me what this is about, or I’m going back to my office to prepare.”
“Yes,” Coordinator Jakobs said, and he opened a drawer and pulled out a chart. He read the chart over. “You have a C-section scheduled. This won’t take long.”
He rolled his eyes.
“I like plants because they aren’t like us,” Coordinator Jakobs said, and he ripped off the part of the leaf he was holding. He held it up in front of his face. “Despite its name, this plant can’t feel pain. I could cut it in half… nothing.” He placed the partial leaf on his desk. “I wish we could cure pain, but for now…” he leaned forward. “The job you do is the best we can do.”
“I don’t understand.”
He slammed his fists on the marble desk. “Stop fucking up!”
Dr. Thorne flinched, and he almost curled up into his chair.
Coordinator Jakobs stood up. “What the hell is going on with you? This Liza Strom business is fucked!”
“Liza?” Dr. Thorne said. Time to bush up on my nonexistent acting skills. “What’s she got to do with anything? Her surgery was a massive success—ask Dr. Colwell!”
“I don’t know if you’ve gone stupid or fucking batshit! Liza Strom reported her surgical experience to a nurse. She was awake and could feel the operation, you fraud!” He paced behind his desk. “And you know the most fucked part of it all?”
“I—”
“She says you meant for her to be conscious. Imagine that: an anesthesiologist who not only doesn’t do his job, but fucking does the exact opposite of his job.” His hands flew through the air as he spoke.
Dr. Thorne found it hard to keep up his startled face. “I can’t imagine that! I don’t know where she’d get that impression. I just don’t know what to say.”
Coordinator Jakobs glared at him. “Then don’t say a damn thing and just listen. If I get one more report of your fuckery, you’re going to end up like that leaf.” He pointed at the severed leaf on his desk. “You’ll be cut off from this hospital’s teat—I’ll make sure of it.”
Dr. Thorne’s face went emotionless. “Are you done?”
Coordinator Jakobs put his hands on his hips. He took a deep breath. “Yeah get the fuck out of my sight.”
He got up and turned for the door.
“And Throne.”
He turned around.
“You’ll be getting an email documenting our conversation.”
“Sounds lovely,” he said, and he put on a smile. He then walked out of his superior’s office and headed for the elevator.
His mind was running wild. Coordinator Jakobs was out for him. She signed the consent form, he thought. I’m legally covered. And there isn’t evidence that I meant for her to be conscious.
He wondered if it would be enough to protect his job. Not if Daniel has any say.
Dr. Thorne entered the elevator, and as the doors closed, he imagined they were the jaws of a beast devouring him. That’s it, he thought. I need to eat Jakobs before he can sever me from the branch.