When Whit arrived in Surgery, he found the table prepped, the instruments laid out, the anesthetic ready. But no nurses, human or mechanical, were present to assist. And there was no sign of the young patient. He groaned and swore loudly into the soundproofed room.
Whit had received the assignment via phone call early that morning. The voice on the other end had been feminine and unfamiliar. There was no accompanying video. The call had found him wide awake after a night without sleep. Whit had been transferred to this facility from a hospital in the city center a week prior and was still trying to reset his internal clock, which had been accustomed to graveyard shifts in an emergency surgery wing.
He hadn’t slept in over 36 hours except for small naps off and on. Could be getting some damn beauty rest right now, he growled inside his head as he ran a hand through his graying copper hair.
The harsh bulbs and sea of reflective surfaces inside the surgical suite made Whit wince as he moved to examine the surgical instruments. Sleek, compact devices for cutting and cauterizing, they had been set out in eerily meticulous patterns and still reeked of some kind of sanitizing fluid. A few were like nothing Whit had ever seen before. He had preferred to use older equipment in the past, thinking a scalpel just as precise, if not more reliable than the medical arsenal which lay before him.
Some of the larger equipment in the room he couldn’t even identify. Whit’s head began to spin and ache more persistently. He realized he was still struggling to get his bearings inside this cavernous complex. Last week’s briefing on the purpose of the facility had been just that---brief. And there were whole wings to which he was not allowed access. Now he had been called in for a serious after-hours procedure at short notice, to boot. Whit was no old-timer, but he had enough experience to know that something didn’t feel right, and that it wasn’t just the lack of sleep.
Whit waited several more minutes before deciding to re-check his schedule. He slid his ID card through a reader on the wall and the adjacent screen shimmered to life. After accessing the main calendar, Whit noted that he was indeed in the system for a 16:00 procedure. However, the names of the nurses and anesthesiologist who were meant to help out had seemingly vanished since he’d consulted the schedule and confirmed it with the woman that morning. The ID number of the child was also gone, as was the bold red highlighting which had indicated the procedure was an urgent one.
Whit rubbed his eyes and blinked. Couldn’t have dreamed that shit up. Someone's been in here. He slid his finger across the screen again and pulled up a directory. He tapped a button which indicated it would dial Manager Marie Jensen in the Medical Coordination office, though where that office was in relation to the Surgery, Whit hadn’t the foggiest idea.
The computer had read Whit’s card and passed his information along to Marie. A pale face with bright eyes and cropped brown hair appeared on the screen in front of him. “Good afternoon, Dr. Whitaker. Staying late? I’m about to sign out for the evening.”
“Hello, Manger Jensen---“
“Please, just Marie is fine. It’s good to meet you.”
“You as well. Ah…Marie, I’m a bit confused. There’s been a mistake in scheduling, I believe. I was called in to do an urgent procedure at this time slot, and I’ve just confirmed it on the computer, but it appears that none of the rest of my team has showed up and their names have been erased from the calendar.”
“A procedure for one of the subjects? Let’s see, just give me a moment. I’ll look you up.”
“I got the call this morning. She didn’t give her name, but said it was important that it get done today.”
“Hmmm, there’s been no one else at my desk all day, and I haven’t heard anything about an urgent procedure. One of my assistants might have been placing calls and run upon a mix-up. Can you trace the source of the call?”
“Just give me a moment to check. The caller identified herself as part of your office staff, I believe.” Whit reached for his phone and ran through the call history before powering the machine down again in disgust. “Son of a bitch, I must have deleted it. I don’t know how that happened.”
Marie pursed her lips but continued to sound lively. “Do you recall the ident number of the subject who needed the operation?”
“No, I don’t, but I know he’s new. I was told he’d just been brought in last night and had been….er, seems the word’s slipped my mind.”
“He would have been processed for the facility,” Marie chimed in.
“And what does that involve, specifically? I’ve just finished my initial training after transferring here last week and haven’t been able to get much of a straight answer from the other staff. I need to know what sort of condition this patient is in before I operate. I was hoping my assistants today would be able to get me up to speed.”
“Of course, Dr. Whitaker. I’m afraid I don’t know the specs on that, but if you explain the situation to your supervisor, I’m sure he or she will provide you with all the information you require. All right, I’ve run through the master schedule and our phone recordings from this morning. You’re not in the system at all, and I can’t trace any call to you from our office. Are you sure it wasn’t a misdial? It may also be an irregularity in your calendar log-in, since you’re new to the system. Can you please check for me now and see if your name is still on the calendar for today?”
Whit scrolled through the menu on the screen in front of him and brought up his schedule once more. The square with the day’s date was now blank.
“Um…nope, it’s gone. Must have been looking at the wrong date. I’m a bit tired today and still getting used to this program.” He paused and mumbled, “Apologies.”
“It’s no problem, Dr. Whitaker. Happy to help. I’ve checked your schedule for the rest of this week, as well. It doesn’t appear that you will be seeing any patients until at least a few days from now, and it certainly isn’t an urgent procedure. Is there anything else you need?”
Whit bit his lip and fought the urge to raise his voice. He was an opinionated man and resolute when he needed to be, but no one could ever accuse him of loudness. As a surgeon, he was usually skilled at appearing unruffled in public, and as a government physician, was even more skilled at blending in with his surroundings and showing a particular degree of respect to coworkers and figures of authority. “Well, I’m still a bit concerned about the call I received. It’s very unlikely that someone outside this facility would have access to my work contact information. It’s private---“
“If it will make you rest easier, Dr. Whitaker, I will place a call to security and see if they can look into it. And I’ll see if I can gather some further information from my office staff as well. It’s likely just a small glitch from within; like you say, your line is private and our confidentiality measures here are air-tight.”
“All right, I appreciate it. Er, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could you ask around to see if any of the nurses or anesthesiologists might have been included in this mix-up?”
“Their names were on the schedule as well?”
“Yes, at least they were this morning, or I assumed that’s who they were. I didn’t recognize the names, but I haven’t been here long.”
“Do you recall any of the names, Dr. Whitaker?”
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t.”
“I’ll go through the directory, make some calls, and see what I can do.” Her voice softened. “I recommend that you head on home and put your feet up for now; that’s what most everyone else is doing.”
Whit forced himself to chuckle a bit. “I’ve been waiting to hear something that sweet all week. Don’t mind if I do.”
“Of course. Please do contact me if something unusual happens again. And in the meantime, I’ll see if something can be done to fix any potential bugs in your calendar viewer.” She leaned in as if to close the call, then said suddenly, “Oh, and Dr. Whitaker, what sort of procedure did you say you thought was taking place this afternoon?”
“It was a corpus callosotomy. Usually that sort of thing isn’t done without a battery of tests and extensive consultation with the patient first. I was led to understand that this young man was at high risk for grand mal seizures, but I wasn’t clear on whether he’d had a seizure history or if other treatments had been tried in the past. Is that surgery a typical occurrence in this facility?”
“ Hemisphere separation? No, not that I’ve heard of.”
Whit’s brow furrowed. “But you have heard of callosotomy?”
Marie winked but her voice had gained an edge. “Trick of the trade. This does indeed sound more serious than just a glitch in our system.”
“Correct,” Whit felt his face burning as his irresponsibility dawned on him. He wondered how the voice of the stranger on the phone that morning had convinced him to act on such little information. “I could have been opening up a child’s brain by mistake, and that’s simply not acceptable. I’m not pointing the finger at anyone, but this situation requires some investigation, and if I’m to continue here, I need not be kept in the dark about the conditions of these ‘subjects,’ as you call them.”
“I apologize, Dr. Whitaker, but I am sure that you will get that information from your superiors in good time. They’re adhering to government protocol, and being a part of our staff requires compliance to those rules. I suggest you take this issue up with your supervisor. And I will do what I can to track down an explanation for what may have happened this morning.”
“Thank you for your time. Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, Dr. Whitaker.”
Whit removed his ID card more forcefully than usual and the screen went black. He rubbed his eyes and temples, wondering if his mind was slipping from lack of sleep. His thoughts wouldn’t piece together beyond a cloudy sense of frustration and panic. The idea that someone had wanted this procedure done and somehow botched or abandoned their plan at the last minute hung over him. He had worked for the government for years and though this department was another breed altogether, the system overall was meant to be a well-oiled machine. A “mix-up” this strange, as Marie had dubbed it, was nigh unheard of.
Whit headed toward the door of the operating room, but stopped for a moment and turned back to the console on the wall. Inserting his card and watching the screen flicker on, he reopened the directory. Whit held his breath and tapped the button to call his supervisor.
At the same time, Marie was phoning hers. Shedding her customer service voice, the young woman hissed at the video monitor on her desk as her eyes darted around the near-empty office. “There’s been some kind of breach. New doctor just phoned in, showed up for a procedure that doesn’t exist. Something’s not right. No, he doesn’t suspect anything. I’m about to phone security, but I wanted to pass on the recording of the call to you.” She did so.
After several minutes, the voice on the other end spoke up. “Dial Dr. Samuel Whitaker back,” it said, “and get him up here immediately.”
***
Sciarpa pulled into a lot beneath the city skyport soon after Penny woke up. Instead of fixing her attention on the line of glittering aircraft lifting off above the roof of the car, the girl stared at her companion. “What did you say?” she murmured sleepily.
“I said I’m going to tell you about what I do for a living,” Sciarpa answered.
Penny sat up straighter. “Yeah, I would like to know more about what your job is.”
The detective smiled slightly. “You’re quite eager. Ice cream first?”
“I suppose that sounds nice. Are you having any?” Penny, though she had just downed a plateful of eggs, was still ravenous.
“I think today I might indulge. If you’ll wait here in the car, I’ll be just a moment.” Sciarpa pressed a button to lock the doors of her vehicle, and Penny noticed that although she heard the sound of levers clicking into place, she couldn’t locate the locks themselves. The car was much different from Hank’s old model.
“Any particular flavor you fancy?” asked Sciarpa.
“What? I just thought ice cream was ice cream.”
“Have you ever tried it?”
“Well, Hank made it himself when he had cows, but he wasn’t much good at it. So there’s different ways it can taste?”
“Of course, Penny! And different colors too. What kind of world would this be if all ice cream was the same?”
Sciarpa beamed and Penny laughed back nervously. “Well, I don’t rightly know. Maybe you could just bring me whatever you think’s best.”
“I’ll bring you some of my favorite kind. And then we can enjoy watching the sky and talk a bit. I’ll be back soon.” She closed the door of the car, gathered her long overcoat around her, and strode away to an alcove at the end of the skyport’s main hub.
When Sciarpa returned, she placed a small green tub and a spoon in front of Penny. “It’s pistachio. Very rare these days, but it’s been a big day for you and you deserve something nice. Eat up now, and I’ll see if I can clear up some of your confusion, all right?”
Penny nodded, her eyes wide and her mouth already full. Sciarpa's words were comforting to her; she felt herself begin to relax. As Penny swallowed the ice cream, her natural talkativeness began easing back. “Damn, this is wonderful!”
Sciarpa chuckled. “What did I tell you? Just don’t give yourself a headache. Now Penny, I’d like to ask you, do you know what a detective is?”
“Is it sort of like the police?” She didn’t look up from the frozen dessert in front of her, but Sciarpa didn’t seem to notice.
“Yes, a detective often works together with the police. Have you ever read about any detectives before, or maybe seen them in a film?”
Penny scrunched up her face in thought. A twinge of caution returned to her. “Well, once one of my schoolteachers read to us from a book she said was really old and it was about a detective and his friend. He didn’t work for the police, but the police always asked him for help.”
“And what sorts of things did the detective in the book do?”
“Well, I don’t rightly remember because my teacher never finished the story. Some of the clans and families ‘round there got angry when they heard what she did, so they…uh, hurt her one night and made a mess of her house. She used to be my neighbor, so I heard it. After that, she moved away. I don’t know where she went. My school was the only school ‘round for miles.”
“That sounds rather unfortunate. But sometimes it’s wise to avoid reading certain things aloud, especially when young minds are listening. She would have done better to have followed the curriculum sent to her by the city.”
Penny shrugged. “That’s what everyone said. It was a good story, though, I thought. Are you a detective too, then? You said you were important to the government. Why would it be bad for us schoolkids to learn about that?”
“Well, I will teach you more about that in time, Penny. But to answer your first question, I am a detective. And I am somewhat like that detective in your story because I don’t come to the police looking for work; the police come to me.”
This answer seemed satisfactory to Penny, and exciting. “Do you shoot anybody?”
“Very rarely does it come to that,” Sciarpa replied, patting the girl’s head in a way that would have annoyed even someone five years Penny’s junior. “I do track criminals, but my expertise is more mental than physical. There are lots of laws in this city that help keep citizens happy and safe, many of which you probably do not know yet. For instance, did you know that people have to pass a special test to be able to live in this city?”
Penny shook her head.
“You’re quite a special girl, and I already know that you would pass the test. So you have nothing to worry about. But sometimes people make mistakes and do not obey the city’s laws, and sometimes they are just bad people and disobey purposely. What’s more, these people can be very good at hiding and the police often need an extra hand to help find them.
“Other times, they like me just to talk to these bad people to try and found out why they broke the law and to see if they can be reformed. See, I am good at getting information that bad people try to keep a secret. I try to stop people who get in the way of the great things happening in this city--- like inventions which will make people’s lives better, or programs which teach children like you skills to help them reach their highest potential. I help find these people, then I try to teach them better ways to think and act.”
Penny abandoned her ice cream spoon and stared at the car floor, trying to formulate a response. Her voice shook as her words spilled out in a rush. “Miss Paola, is that why you’re taking me in? Those men last night—they saw that I shot Hank. Does that make me a criminal? I don’t know the laws of the city, but I know killing’s wrong wherever you are. I just thought he was going to hurt that boy, you gotta understand!”
Sciarpa put her hand on top of Penny’s, which was sticky with drips of cream and sugar. “You’re not a criminal, Penny. You tried to do what you thought was right. Your guardian was using you to help him accomplish a dangerous task. He was taking advantage of you and putting you at risk. And he also knew that once you reached a certain age, your place would be here in the city. Where you could live a better life and be educated properly. But he was selfish and held onto you for quite a while longer than he should have. He wasn’t treating you correctly, and you were not wrong to be angry with him. You may have acted without thinking, but you are not in trouble for it.”
Penny was too embarrassed to cry in front of someone as dignified as Sciarpa, so she blinked hard and drew in a long breath. “I don’t know if he was actually my dad.”
“Does it matter?
“W-well, I figure he might not be, but I only thought of that just recently. If he isn’t, maybe I have other parents out there somewhere. Hank said my mom lived here in the city, but that she is dead. I dunno know if that’s true either.”
“Penny, even if what you say is accurate, it would be incredibly difficult to track down any of your biological relations here in the city. As I understand, genealogy is quite important in rural areas, but here we find that the exclusivity of family groups causes rivalries, unfair expectations, and other biases and strained relationships which are not good for the community overall. Children are raised communally here, so that they can learn similar values and become better at cooperating with each other. So the adults who are fit for and enjoy raising children may perform the tasks of teaching and caregiving, and the other adults may seek other employment without the distraction of trying to hold a job and provide for a child at the same time. Do you see?”
“But…do kids ever see their parents?”
“Some do. Some parents are very traditional and volunteer to be guardians for their offspring, but the majority entrust them to the care of someone else. In fact, few women give birth the natural way here. Did you learn about how women give birth in school?”
Penny turned red. “Yeah, there was one day when we did. And Hank’s dog had puppies a few years back, so I seen how it works.”
“I have seen. Well, here in the city, a woman’s eggs can be fertilized and can gestate in labs. So there’s no need for immediate contact between parent and child if none is desired. And birth records are not kept to trace child to parent if the parent doesn’t request it. The parents, the egg and sperm donors, simply pay a flat fee which guarantees that any child their specimens help produce will be raised in a local facility.”
“But that’s weird! So the kids are like orphans?”
“Far from it. Like I said, these children have someone to raise them.”
“But you said there was an Orphan Protection Program.”
Sciarpa sighed. “Well, yes, I’m afraid I did. That is for children who are conceived the natural way and whose parents cannot afford to pay the required fee for caregiving services. Sometimes they will try to move out of the city or try to provide for the child on their own, but if anything happens to them---poverty, illness, accident, death---the child is usually given over to the government-run orphan program. That is the only care program that requires no fee, but it is not as nice as the others.”
Their conversation trailed off as the sun began to set. Sciarpa examined the small silver watch face on her wrist while Penny said slowly, “Miss Paola, have you ever had any kids? I mean, even if it wasn’t the natural way.”
Sciarpa’s laugh was quiet and harsh. “I may have donated once or twice when I was younger, but I have no memory of it and certainly no record." Attempting a joke, she said, “So you’ll have to forgive me if my guardian skills are lacking. I'll expect a rigorous evaluation from time to time, you know. Anything else you’re curious about?”
“Um, well, I guess I want to task how you got me away from those men last night. I don’t remember much, but they took that little boy once we got off the helicopter.” Penny hesitated to say his name, still vaguely wondering if she was giving too much away. “What’s going to happen to him?”
“He has caretakers now, just like you. And he’s a very special child as well. I’m glad that you brought him up, actually, Penny. I would like to ask you some questions about him. And about how you grew up. But it’s getting late and I have some work to do this evening. Let’s go back to my residence, okay?”
“All right, I am mighty tired. But…d’you think I can see him sometime? Kai, I mean?”
Sciarpa’s smile never wavered. “You’re getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren’t you, Penny? Let’s wait awhile on that. We’ll see how the both of you do, all right?”
Penny nodded, slumping in the seat of the car. She couldn’t help thinking that less than 24 hours ago, she’d been sitting in a battered station wagon miles away. She’d been taking orders from Hank, who had still been alive. And if anyone had told her one day ago that any of the streets and sounds and laws and flight machines around her existed, she would have laughed until her throat went raw.
