Almost Everyone [Sci-fi Short Story Pt.1 of 4]

 

Asha has always been sick and now she's dying, but she has the choice to live at the cost of everything she knows to break the conspiracy keeping everyone indentured.

 

'Ollo, 'ollo!

Been a quiet while since the last post and that is entirely on life. But I'm back and ready to share with you all again! And to start it, why not a medical dystopian short story? Because the pandemic is all but forgotten and we can't have that, now can we? (note: heavy sarcasm) This one is a bit on the long side so there will be four parts to it.

I originally wrote this back several years ago when I first came across the invention of graphene and all its potential purposes. The material truly intrigues me to this day and its medical potential is astounding. So I wondered, what about a medical bracelet made of the stuff and used to deliver medicine painlessly through the skin? Turns out, there is a patch in the works already that does this. Then what are the extreme consequences of this medical power? And the future can't be sunshine and roses, now can it? Thus a dystopian world was formed with graphene at its centre.

 



 

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Another needle pierced Asha’s skin and she winced. Nurse Mukami frowned as she stared at her over the rim of her glasses. She should’ve been used to the feeling by now, but it was no longer a matter of physical pain. Along her arm were the scars of scientific curiosity. They riddled her body in a decorative patchwork—some whitened and others still pink. Green and bluish-brown splotches littered around her wrist, colouring around black dots. More butterfly needles had been in her veins than up a Morphi-2 addict’s arm. And there were more to come.
      The graphene bracelet on her wrist chimed a dull beep. Nurse Mukami removed the needle then grabbed a small glass bottle and held it against the GraceletTM. Almost everyone wore one, and almost everyone had at least a few diseases that it treated. No one had told Asha what hers were. The doctors smiled when she asked them. Dad tended to change the subject.
      It had to be something serious if the GraceletTM couldn’t handle it.
      She’d spent her childhood in this hospital. MediCorp had insisted she go through these treatments. Not that she had a choice. The doctors said she’d die without them. They had made her miss most of her school days, but it didn’t matter. She was never going to make friends or have a career any ways.
      Nurse Mukami smiled when the device blipped and its red light turned green. “All done, Asha. Your taxi will be here shortly to take you home. You can stay in the waiting room until it comes.”
      Asha rolled down her sleeve to cover her knuckles and nodded.
      Home was the last place she wanted to be, second to here. It was Mum’s birthday and Asha wanted to rather have it spent at the park where Mum used to take her, and remember her as she was back then. A lingering resentment for the hospice system boiled in her throat. Why had they thought she could take care of both Mum and Dad? She couldn’t even handle her own diseases.
      The familiar faces of the hospital staff greeted her with strained smiles as she walked down the corridor. She knew them all by name. Each one had taken a piece of her body at one point or another.
      A woman Asha had never seen before walked into the waiting room wearing a white lab coat. Her smile was real.
      “Asha Zuberi?” She held out her hand. “I’m Dr. Mercy Nanjala. Can we speak privately?” Her smile grew the more Asha stared at her. With reluctance, Asha accepted her hand and she lead her to an empty check-up room.
      “Are you new here?” Asha asked.
      She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “You could say that.” She took a deep breath and her smile faded. “I work for APHRA, Advanced Public Health Research Agency. Do you know of it?”
      There was only one health company and that was MediCorp. She must’ve been from the black market.
      Asha narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “Please, my taxi will be here and people are watching, waiting for me to leave and go home.” She took a step to walk past her, but Mercy grabbed her arm. It hurt.
      “Asha, please? You’re not sick. They’re only interested in figuring out why not.” She released her and clasped her hands together. “I know this is a lot to take in, but I want to help you. Here,” she said as she dug out a card from the lab coat pocket at her breast and shoved it into Asha’s hand, “call me when you’re ready. We can take you away from all this.”
      Asha nodded, hoping she’d leave her alone. The woman smiled again, but now it was the same as those of the hospital staff. She slipped out of the room, leaving her lab coat over the hook beside the door.
      What had just happened?
      Nurse Mukami poked her head around the corner. “Come, girl. Your taxi is here.” She gestured for Asha to follow and escorted her out of the hospital. “See you next week. Be safe.” A forced smile tugged at Asha’s cheeks. Habit.
      She looked at the card with Mercy’s name printed in gold letters over black paper. So much effort made to scam people. She crumpled it and stuffed it into a pocket before heading out and away from the smell of bleach that would stick to her nostrils for the next two days.
 

to be continued...

 


 
 

| PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 |

 


 

Thanks for stopping by and reading and supporting!

I'd love to know your thoughts and reactions to the story so please feel free to leave a comment.

 

 
Anike Kirsten lives in the dead centre of South Africa with her spawns and spouse, cat, and spiders. She is an amateur scientist and artist who also enjoys exploring the possibilities, as well as the improbabilities, within her stories. Fragments of her imagination have been scattered across to Nature: Futures, Avescope, and other fine publications.

 
• Copyright © 2022 Anike Kirsten •

 


 

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