Rapid medical advancements make the study of behavioral psychology unnecessary. Vindication City analyzes the potential outcomes of how such an industrial society might function under these circumstances, approximately 200 years from now.
Excerpt
Chapter 1
“A doctor will be right with you,” the female nurse said quietly. “Wait for the transponder to vibrate. It will signal you when it’s time.”
“The doctor” I whispered.
When the nurse began walking back to the reception desk I stood up and went towards an orange door on the right.
“Sir!” the nurse exclaimed. “You aren’t allowed in there at this time. The doctor must see you first.”
“I don’t understand,” I mumbled.
“You’ll feel much better after visiting the doctor.”
“Wait!”
“Mr. Baumer! I assure you, everything will be fine.”
“There is-”
“I must ask you to please remain calm. Wait for the transponder to signal you.”
“I can’t hear-”
Suddenly the transponder vibrated. I felt the device warming my hand gently as the nurse escorted me through a wide hallway into a room.
“There now. Doesn’t that feel better? Lie down on this bed. Everything will be all right. Close your eyes and imagine floating on a calm sea. Feel the waves moving your body in a direction you always wished to travel.” “Right side,” I said, trying to open my eyes. “Don’t go through the orange door.”
My muscles began tingling. My extremities tightened and became numb. There was an overwhelming need to stretch my arms.
“What’s going on?” I managed to say.
“Stay still, my boy. This will only hurt a bit,” said a strange voice. “He’s coming out of it! I need an intravenous S Mood and Temperament (SMT) with 250 g of chilled water.”
“Doctor,” I whispered. “Where’s the doctor?”
“He’s regaining equilibrium doctor,” the nurse said. “We’ll perform the mental assessment for his SMT shortly,” said the strange voice.
“Get me a doctor,” I whispered.
“Hello Carson,” said the strange voice. “So glad you could come to see us. Sit up and drink this water. It will make you feel better.”
“Doctor?” I asked.
“It’s me,” the doctor said. “We must now assess your mental state. Then you may perform the fluid sample. This will guarantee the effectiveness of our supplements.”
“What are you talking about?” I glanced around the room. “Where am I?”
“You’re in a safe place,” the doctor replied. “We’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again. The nurses were quite surprised when you decided to explore. You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” “Who knows what got into me. I’m usually more careful than that. Can you tell me what might have caused this irrational behavior?”
“Please don’t make an attempt to express your problems. It doesn’t do anybody much good. At 26 you still look very young and admirable. We just need to perform a mental analysis for your SMT treatment.” I looked down from the bed. Two female nurses were standing by the door. The doctor left, giving each nurse something I couldn’t recognize. Both nurses wore solid green uniforms and white hairnets. Each nurse had a small digital name tag that displayed a seven-digit number in shining red letters. The numbers were exactly the same on both name tags. The nurses did not move too much, and both made direct eye contact with me. There were shelves arranged with clear jars in numerical order. All the jars were easily accessible, most of them sitting above my bed. I turned around, noticing a plaque that hung in a secluded corner next to a locked cabinet. Inside the plaque was a rather long document, typed on unusual golden paper that looked nothing like any seldom-available papers did today. It was framed elegantly and covered under thick, clear glass. The entire document had a small typeface, except the first sentence, which said, 200 years after forming the Association for Humanistic Psychology in 1961, we are still faced with a crisis. I leaned closer, trying to get a better look, but couldn’t reach it.
“Mr. Baumer!” a nurse exclaimed. “There’s no time to waste. We must get to the examining room immediately.”
The other nurse flipped a switch by the door, activating two ventilation fans that dispersed a slightly sweet scent all around me. “Please take a deep breath and relax,” the nurse said. “Don’t you know the doctor is ready to see you in the examining room?”
“The doctor?” I asked.
“Yes,” both nurses replied, and one of them approached me. “You’ve been waiting for him all this time.”
“Really?” I replied while trying to stand still.
“Of course you have,” she replied. “He knows just what’s causing your thought disruptions.”
“My legs are tired.” I held on the bed.
“There’s no reason to stress yourself out now-”
The other nurse flipped off the switch and approached me. “That should do it,” she said after whispering something to the other nurse.
“Doesn’t that feel better?” they both asked. Both nurses took my hand and a strange metallic device produced soothing sensations on my palm. They walked me towards the door. We went down the wide hallway, which could accommodate three people side by side. On each side were private waiting rooms with large windows, similar to the one I had entered. All windows were covered by metallic screens, and computerized ID numbers flashed next to them. Three-dimensional images of molecular structures rotated on a flat screen right above the doors. Each room had its own image and seven-digit ID number. Both nurses were still holding my hand as we approached silver double doors shiny enough to create a clear reflection. The nurses removed their name tags, swiping them across a security sensor in unison. After a five-second delay, both doors made a hissing sound then opened automatically. They escorted me inside and that familiar, slightly sweet scent entered my nostrils. The corridor-like pathway became narrower with every step. One of the nurses gently released my hand and an instant later the other nurse also let go. “Hello?” I asked. “I hear you-”
Clicking sounds were coming not far from me. I looked around, but it was pitch black. Nothing was visible. “I can hear you in there,” I said. “Answer me.”
It seemed as if a faint voice was talking to me. I tried extending my arms to touch something, but there was nothing.
“He seems to be going out of- hmm,” said a strange voice suddenly.
“What?” I asked. “Please show yourself.”
“Pattern one assessment,” that same voice said. “Look at him. He’s so tiny.”
“I know you’re here. Please come out.”
I tried walking but it seemed like I was glued to the wall horizontally. Soothing sensations continued running throughout my body. “Let me out!” I cried. “Why are you singing? Speak to me! Hello?”
“Welcome back, Carson. All done,” the strange voice said. “Glad you could make it.”
“Who are you?” I asked. “The doctor?”
“I’m right here. Swallow this.” He handed me a round tablet about the size of my fingertips. I looked at its smooth surface, but did not swallow.
“Take it,” the doctor said.
The tablet had a slight bitter taste as it ran down my throat. The doctor reclined, focusing his attention on me.
“We have targeted the cause of your erratic behavior. As your doctor I’m putting you on SMT treatment, starting today.”
“Anything for you. I want to improve myself quickly, without too much effort.”
“Good then. I see we’re making progress.”
“Thank you.”
“We’re all done with your session today. Here are the SMT tablets. Take them once a day with a glass of water. You must make sure not to skip a dose. That would tamper with the long-term effects.”
I took the clear jar of round, pale yellow tablets. It wasn’t very big and only had one label, which read Universal SMT, 20 Tablets, 1 Daily. “Is there anything else I should know about this supplement?”
“They’re safe, effective and chemically engineered for your specific need.”
“What’s ‘Universal’ supposed to mean?”
“Does anybody live with you?”
“Not really.”
“It shouldn’t be a problem then. It’s really nothing, believe me.”
“Okay, but only because you’re my doctor.”
“You should get going. The nurses will take you to the analysis facility for the final step.”
I walked out of the examining room through a purple curtain. The two nurses were standing outside. They took me through the wide hallway and I realized that some of the red ID numbers were either different or turned off completely. The nurses walked me past the rooms and turned right towards the orange door. “Please stop here,” the nurse on my right said.
The other nurse approached the orange door and entered some kind of code. Seven faint rings sounded as she entered something on a keypad. “Please go in now,” she said. “Follow the directions given.”
I walked inside. A scrolling LED banner was mounted above the far right wall. It read Being in this room shows that you’re willing to improve yourself. Below the banner, three tubes led from a small reclining chaise directly into the wall. Besides each tube stood a mass spectrometry machine upheld by a shiny metallic pole. All three tubes were roughly a foot away from the chair, and about ten inches in diameter. Each tube was a certain color. In front of the chair was a yellow tube, which was attached from the floor to the ceiling. Two red and green tubes were connected to a sturdy hollow aluminum rod that suspended the chaise from the floor. Those tubes went straight into the sides of the wall in opposite directions. I sat down on the chaise. A female computerized voice said, “Welcome to our Sample Analysis Center at the Heming Mood and Behavior Conditioning Facility (HMBCF). Please pick up your remote. Then press the green button to put your seat into testing position.” I pressed the green button and my chaise reclined a bit.
“Press 1 to release the arms. Place your palms on the screen for ten seconds.”
Two arms came forth from the side and turned to reveal a couple of seven-by-seven inch screens. A faint blue light shone through the glass. “473 nanometers,” said the female computerized voice. “Perspiration rate, check. Surprise stimulus, check. Central Nervous System activity, check. Sympathetic Nervous System, check. Stress response, check. Psycho-mimetic Simulation Exam Completed.”
The arms of the chaise turned around and tucked away inside their original position.
“Please place the oral collection device located behind you inside your mouth. Press 7 to start the sample collection process.”
I took the device and found it to be lightweight and cold. It consisted of a thin plastic handle attached to a spherical rubber tip about a half an inch in diameter. I put it in my mouth and pressed the button.
“Fluid accumulation will begin in three, two, one- gathering fluids.”
At this point the device was rubbing all around my mouth very gently. “Supercritical fluid extraction in progress. Please wait a moment- distributing fluids to appropriate receptacles.”
All three colored tubes activated themselves simultaneously, emitting a low buzzing sound that would only be audible in a quiet room.
“Fluids deposited successfully. Please press Adjust to reset and sterilize testing equipment. You may now exit the testing facility. Goodbye.”
When I opened the door there was increased activity in the hallway. Pairs of nurses with different colored uniforms were escorting a single patient down the wide hallway. My two nurses were still dressed in their green uniforms, leaning against the wall to make room for others. “Are you feeling better now?” one of them asked.
“Much better. Are there usually this many people here?”
“As the night approaches we get more demand for treatment,” said the other nurse.
“Why is that?”
“It’s a mystery,” they both said.
“Mystery?” “Heming is a huge city. At night people’s feelings accumulate towards things we help out with.”
“What kind of things?”
“It’s too complicated to explain right now,” one said. “But aren’t you happy to go home? You’ve had an exciting day and are feeling much better about yourself.”
“Definitely,” I replied. “I don’t even remember what was bothering me…but that’s normal I guess.”
“It’s our job to help. Everybody benefits from our service here-at no charge.”
“I want to thank you for-”
“Please,” interrupted the other nurse. Wouldn’t you like to go home now? Remember, we’ve placed your SMT tablets into your left pocket. Make sure not to skip a dose.”
“It’s coming back to me,” I replied, tapping my left pocket.
“Very well. Please make your way towards our red exit sign on the left. A voice command system will guide you outside.”
I walked away from the nurses without saying another word. After approaching the exit sign I turned around, and they were no longer there. I began to walk forward in a slow pace.
“Please go straight,” said an automated female voice.
The exit way was tidy and well lit. I noticed that the carpet was a nicely saturated shade of purple and the walls were painted with a faint orange color, almost peach. “Please make a right towards the exit, leaving HMBCF.”
I stepped out into the warm breeze of a beautiful summer night. Despite the great weather, it was getting late, so I decided to go home. I walked over to a nearby Alfatauri Escort Station (AES) to summon a ride home.
“Welcome to the 6B HMBCF AES. Press 1 for directions or press A for transportation service. You have selected A. Please state number of parties. You have selected 1. Please select destination. You have selected 1st Heming District, Main Street. Step to the blue curb. An Alfatauri vehicle will be here in approximately five minutes.”
Read more about Vindication City and David Garyan HERE.
Copyright 2010 David Garyan. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
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