Page 2 of Mated By the Pack
Some of my patients have said I have a velvet touch. I’ll need that today, because poor Fiona is trembling. Fear is a strange emotion. I remember it from when I was her age, but it almost seems foreign now. She won’t have to worry about it for much longer, because the supplements I’m about to give her will help ease her mind.
“It’ll take me a moment to prepare your supplements,” I say, opening the cabinet and glancing back at her chart.
Emotion regulators. Libido stabilizers. A little dose of happiness, because everyone needs some these days. That’s the standard regimen and Fiona’s baseline. I carefully measure the dosages, fill the syringe, and approach the trembling girl.
The supplements aren’t perfect. Extreme emotions can’t be suppressed. The kind triggered by grief, or the sharp, instinctual panic that surfaces in a life-or-death situation. Luckily, we don’t have to worry about that in Haven North.
“A swipe and a stick,” I chime, rubbing an alcohol swab on her arm. “Oh, my goodness, is that Leon Hadaway?”
“What? Where? He’s my favorite—ah!” The needle is already in.
“All done,” I say kindly, withdrawing the needle and rubbing the red mark. “Sorry, but a little distraction always helps.”
“That wasn’t so bad,” Fiona admits, flashing a meek smile. “Thank you, Nurse Calla.”
“You’ll feel better in no time.” I smile and put an adhesive bandage on her arm. “Would you like a piece of candy, or are you too old for that now?”
“Um, I’d still like a piece of candy,” she says sheepishly.
I smile, nod and hand her a piece from the stash I keep in my pockets for the younger patients. She takes it with excitement in her eyes and pops it in her mouth, letting out a light sigh of satisfaction.
With Fiona taken care of, I make my way to my next patient. Director Regina has several for me today, but I don’t mind. Working makes me happy. Helping people makes me happy. Most things make me happy, honestly, but I know the supplements help with that.
After I finish, it is time to make my rounds. Unfortunately, that means the rest of my day will be spent with patients who will likely never leave the Academic Medical Center. Permanent residents, as we call them. We don’t have much trouble with sickness or disease in Haven North, since we’re quarantined away from everything outside, but age is the one thing nobody escapes.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Pierce,” I say in a gentle voice as I walk into my oldest patient’s room.
“Huh? Oh, it’s the pretty blonde,” he chuckles, then coughs. “I haven’t seen you in a few days. Where have you been?”
“Oh, Mr. Pierce,” I laugh, ignoring his comment. “I saw you yesterday. Don’t you remember? I had to give you a bath.”
“Splish-splash,” he says, his eyes flashing for a moment. “Yes, yes. I remember. That feels like days ago. That was yesterday? They say time starts to lose all meaning toward the end, don’t they?”
I swallow hard and nod. Despite the supplements, sometimes I can’t help feeling a twinge of sadness when I know one of my patients is close to the end. Dr. Thomas says emotions like that are nothing to worry about, as long as you’re aware of them. I always report mine, so the dosage can be adjusted for my next cycle. I’ll have to do that again soon.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Pierce,” I choke out, hurrying to the cabinet where the syringes are kept. My supplement cycle is definitely wearing off. This is more than a little sadness. “But we’re going to make things as comfortable as possible for you.”
“Just load that syringe up and finish me off, dear,” he says, his tone half-joking, half-serious. “My wife is waiting for me on the other side. She’s been waiting way too long.”
The other side. Some patients talk about that, especially the older ones. I’ve never found any comfort in the old religious books in the library. History tells us that religion was responsible for wars and genocide before the Great War—before the sun erupted and devastated the planet. It’s hard to imagine a bunch of stories bringing comfort, but some people believe everything is left up to fate and a mysterious presence.
I believe in what is right in front of me. And what is right in front of me is a dying man who needs his medicine so he can pass with dignity when the time comes.
“A swipe and a stick,” I repeat, just like with Fiona, as I run the alcohol swab across Mr. Pierce’s arm.
“Nothing funny in that shot, is there, miss?” he asks, glancing over at the needle.
“No, sir. No supplements,” I confirm. “Just something to help you relax and take the edge off the pain you’re feeling right now.”
“Fine,” he concedes, nodding to me.
The supplements aren’t required, except for those who are on an assigned path. The Unassigned in the Lower District don’t get them. Unregulated emotions aren’t dangerous, according to Dr. Thomas, but when you have a job to do, there’s no place for them.
I remember how my emotions made me feel before the medical tests confirmed I was infertile. I’d spend hours daydreaming about becoming a Bride. Living a life of luxury. Having babies that would shape Haven North’s future. Sometimes, those emotions would be so strong I’d start crying, and I didn’t even know why. I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that anymore.
“Is there anything else you need, Mr. Pierce?” I ask gently, watching his eyelids flutter as the medicine courses through his veins.
“Just my wife…” he sighs, then his eyes close completely.
