Chapter 2:

The Necessary Care

Umevar


Margit opened her eyes and saw the blinding lights above her. She had woken up in a hospital. She looked around and saw tubes connected to her arm and cables connected to the side of her head. Memories came flooding back. She shook, which attracted the attention of the nurse, who called in a doctor. A short man walked in, browsing through one of the many files in his hands.

“Ah yes, Miss Papp right on time. Very good.”

“What happened, I-”

“Please refrain from making unsolicited comments.” The doctor cut her off firmly, but without raising volume. “Your treatment at the Hospital of Saint Bistricus has been concluded. Nurse if you please.” He nodded towards Margit. The nurse took a portable card reader, took Margit’s hand and swiped. The patient could only watch with a baffled look on her face. “Now that that is taken care of, please leave.”

“Wait, you can’t just-”

“By the calculation of your earning, you have received all the treatment possible given your circumstances. The total has been added to your collective debt. Your belongings are placed on this table. Take them on your way out.” He pointed to the small pile on the table.

Margit opened her mouth in protest, but seeing the hard look in the doctor’s eyes she thought better of it. She frowned, collected the clothes and wallet and left the room. Soon after, the daze caught up with her and she walked on leaning on the walls.

She walked out and tried to orient herself. After a minute she gave up, relying instead on her ocular implant. She had to wait several minutes to rid herself of the ads due to her continued insistence of not singing along to the ads. Why am I even alive right now? She did a double take after noticing the date on the side of the display. It had been three days since the attack. She browsed through some popular news sites and saw that the attack was not on a single cover story. Of course that only made sense since in this big city terrorist attacks were practically a daily occurrence and most people learned to simply ignore them. Margit was one of them. In spite of the frequency of the attacks it was still hard to imagine that you would end up being the target of one of them. She finally found the report on the attack. It was described as just another eco-terrorist attack on a technological corporation. They reported 24 deaths, which she imagined was more or less all of the people in that office besides her on that day. But not really more. If they only attacked us then Gabor must be safe.

Old fears were beginning to resurface in Margit’s mind. She had always avoided people on the streets when she could, but now she was sneaking glances at them, wondering which one of them might hurt her again. She understood her fears were irrational, but the feeling remained anyway.

On her way back home, the neon lights seemed brighter and the dark corners even darker than before. It made her insides feel weird. There was rubbish thrown around the streets being picked up by the pale Abelos. Even these harmless and insentient beings elicited feelings of nervousness.

Back in her own district the streets were even filthier. Here even the constant work of the Abelos wasn’t swift enough to outpace the littering. This place didn’t have the nauseating contrast of light and dark with the absence of the signs, but the cold darkness was disturbing in its own unique way. She ended up pushing her avoidance of people to the extreme, crossing the street or even taking side alleys in case they were empty when she saw several people grouped together on the streets.

It had taken her twice as long as it should have, but she finally made it back to her apartment. It was ugly and run-down. It was barely any better than a living pod despite the higher price, but pride demanded nothing less. For all its faults the sight of her front door made her sigh in relief. It was the one place where she could feel safe and relax. Snapping out of her little reverie, she moved closer and swiped her wrist across the reader to unlock the door. The indicator flashed red and as she tried to open the door, it did not move. She grimaced and swiped again, The result was the same. This time she became nervous and gulped. She tried again and again and again. Each attempt only increased her despair until at last the reality of the situation finally struck home.

The debt she had incurred at the hospital was apparently large enough for the system to automatically evict her.

She was out of breath and had to lean against the fence for a moment, taking deep breaths. It all felt wrong. Still in a daze she stumbled away and left the old building behind. She wandered the streets aimlessly, following twist and turns of side alleys and after not seeing a single person for many turns she finally stopped.

She leaned on a wall behind a large rubbish bin. Only then the images of the attack flashed before her eyes and she remembered the piece of debris that had pierced her body. She lifted her shirt and saw the faint marks that remained. They must’ve taken care of the bigger scars at the hospital. Still she surveyed the marks on her lower belly. Upon applying pressure, she realised that some sort of augmentation was inserted inside.

She didn’t even notice that tears had begun streaming down her face, nor did she understand them. All that she felt was the oppressive feeling of emptiness, as if a part of her was missing. She collapsed to the ground, sliding along the wall into a pile of filthy snot and tears. After a while exhaustion of the day caught up with her and she blacked out in the dark and lonely street.