Welcome to the Madhouse

by S. E. Sasaki

  “There has not been much time for Dr. Al-Fadi’s cells to manufacture much virus yet,” Bud said. “If his body is flash-frozen, even quicker than usual, the virus will have had little time to replicate. We just need to reprogram his cryopod to freeze at a much faster rate and we need to get Dr. Al-Fadi’s body in it as soon as possible!”

  Grace turned to Bud and touched his arm.

  “How quickly can all of the cryopods on the quarantined side be reprogrammed? Are there enough robots and androids there?”

  “There are enough, Dr. Lord. I have them reprogramming all of the cryopods now.”

  “Thank you, Nelson Mandela. Can you make sure the first one goes to Dr. Al-Fadi’s room?”

  “Certainly, Dr. Lord.”

  Bud got quickly up out of the chair. He had to get back to work. There was no time to lose. He had to make sure Dr. Al-Fadi got into one of those cryopods, stat! They had to come up with a treatment for the virus, before Dr. Al-Fadi’s cells all started to die!

  Bud straightened up, nodded to Dr. Cech and Grace, and raced out of the lab and back to his own work station, ignoring the concerned looks from the two doctors. There was nothing more important than finding a cure! If only the experiments, themselves, could run quicker!

  Dr. Cech turned to Grace. “I believe if we can convince Hiro to get himself into cryostorage immediately, we have a chance to save him. We should have thought about putting everyone in cryostorage, for that matter. Why didn’t we think of it?”

  “When all of the people in the cryopods on the Valiant were liquified or dead, it seemed pointless. But now that we have an idea of the mechanism of action of this virus and how long it takes to destroy a body, I think you are right. The cryopods can save lives, as long as people are cryofrozen uninfected or very early in the infection,” Grace said. “I’ll put in a call to Dr. Vanessa Bell and see how many cryopods they need in the quarantine area. They may have enough already, in the Receiving Bays. They are always shipping the empty pods back out into the field. She can organize everyone in the quarantined area to get into them.”

  “Right. And I’ll go talk to the stubborn bastard, to make sure he says, ‘yes’, which I doubt he will,” said Dr. Cech. “By the way, do you happen to know whether Hiro said anything to Dr. Weisman about being resurrected, if he dies?”

  “Dr. Weisman said Hiro did not make a definitive decision at the time of the memprint recording. He wanted to think about it.”

  “That is unfortunate,” Dr. Cech said, disappointed. “But he could give a directive now.”

  “Perhaps you could convince him to give a verbal order, agreeing to his resurrection, when you speak to him?”

  “That will be a cheery conversation,” Dr. Cech sighed, looking suddenly like he had aged ten years over the last few minutes.

  “I think he will listen to you,” Grace said.

  “Listen to me? Have you not been listening to a single word, when Hiro and I have been together, Dr. Lord? When has Hiro ever listened to me, other than to insult me back, that is? Oh, never mind, I know what you mean. I will just have to make him listen to me or go in there and forcefully push him into a cryopod, myself.”

  “Good,” Grace said, patting Dr. Cech on the arm. “We have survived tiger and jaguar scoring. How much more formidable can a little human surgeon be?”

  Dr. Cech let out a guffaw. “I will contact Hanako first and ask whether she was successfully able to convince Hiro to get himself into cryostorage. Perhaps we are worrying over nothing and he has already said ‘yes’.”

  Grace raised her eyebrow and cocked her head, as she stared at Dr. Cech.

  “Yes, and I’m the Tooth Fairy. But . . . you never know,” Dr. Cech said. “Stranger things have happened. However, we are talking about Hiro.” Dejan Cech’s voice cracked on the mention of his friend’s name. His face trembled and he gasped. “I’d probably have more luck ordering him not to get into a cryopod.”

  “I’ll let you know what Dr. Bell says about getting everyone else into a reprogrammed cryopod. I know I have the easier task, Dejan. Good luck,” Grace said, with a pat on the elderly anesthetist’s arm.

  “And I’ll let you know how it goes with the our fearless leader,” Dr. Cech said with a grimace and a sigh.

  Dejan Cech went to see Hanako, who was grief-stricken and distraught. She had spoken with her husband who had, as expected, refused to go into cryostorage until all the other personnel in the quarantined area were in cryopods, first.

  Hanako paced the floor of hers and Hiro’s quarters, as Dejan Cech sat forward on a couch and watched. In her small hands, she was wringing a small towel as if, the anesthetist imagined, it was her husband’s scrawny neck.

  “Hiro said, ‘How would it look if I went into a cryopod first? It would be like the captain of a sinking ship, being the first rat to get into the lifeboats. I would never be able to hold my head up on this medical station, ever again. People would look at me and say, ‘There goes the coward!’ I would have no self-respect, Hanako. I cannot do this thing you ask of me!’” Hanako related this conversation to Dejan Cech in a surprisingly good imitation of Hiro’s voice. Then she burst into tears. Her helmet hid much of her grief.

  “I will try and talk some sense into him,” Dejan Cech said to Hanako. “People will understand. They know we need him on this medical station. He is our leader and our most gifted surgeon—and I will even tell him that, myself!—so we must keep him alive, at all costs. He would not be seen as cowardly, just bowing to public demand.”

  “Thank you, Dejan. I would very much appreciate it if you could convince him of this. I don’t seem to be able to,” Hanako said, as she unconsciously wrung the little towel tighter.

  “I said I would go in there and put him in one myself, if he refuses. I just have to figure out a way of getting through the lockdown barriers into the quarantined area. I doubt the station AI can even open a door for me. But, I have an alternative plan, Hanako, and it should work.

  “First things first, however. Let us see if I can convince that puffed-up blockhead of a husband of yours to see reason, and go willingly into cryostorage. Miracles can happen every day, you know.”

  Hanako sniffled and raised her head.

  “You think so?” she asked, looking up at him hopefully.

  “I know so,” Dejan said, with a wink.

  “He can be pretty obstinate, you know,” she said.

  “No! Reeeeaally?” Dejan asked, his bushy eyebrows raised and his eyes enormous, which brought a small smile to Hanako’s face.

  “Please go ahead and use my wallscreen here, Dejan,” Hanako said. “I will go into the other room, so he cannot see me, and give you two some privacy. Hopefully, he will answer your call, thinking it is me.” Hanako crossed her fingers and whispered, as she left the room, “Good luck.”

  “With Hiro, I am going to need it,” Dejan said.

  Hanako gave him a two-thumbs-up signal, as she closed the door to the adjacent room.

  Dejan Cech asked the wallscreen to signal Hiro. He stood before the large panel, in trepidation, knowing that all his reassurances to Grace and Hanako were probably for naught. He doubted he could get Hiro to change his mind on anything, once the bullheaded little man had his mind set. Still, Dejan had to try.

  Hiro’s haggard face appeared on the wallscreen, without the containment suit helmet on, and it registered shock when he saw his anesthetist friend’s face. Dejan was struck by the changes in the surgeon’s face; the deep worry lines present on his forehead and around his mouth, that had not been there the last time they had been together. Immediately, Hiro’s face clouded with concern.

  “What has happened? Is Hanako all right, Dejan? What are you doing in our quarters?”

  “No, she is not all right, you old fool. She is sick to death about you. You have her in tears, that poor lovely woman who you do not deserve. She does not need to have her heart broken, Hiro. You are being an ass.”

  “Me? An ass? What are you
talking about? I have spent the last fifty plus hours working tirelessly for the people of this station, trying to keep them safe! How dare you call me an ass?”

  “I call you an ass because you are being selfish.”

  “What?” Hiro yelped, jumping out of the chair he was seated in.

  “You want to be a martyr,” Cech accused Hiro. “You want everyone to say ‘Oh, that wonderful surgeon, Hiro Al-Fadi, definitely lived up to his name. Wasn’t he a hero in real life? Only now, we have all these sick and wounded people coming to the station and we could sure use his expertise. Why the hell did he not go into cryostorage, when everyone demanded he do so? What an idiot he was!’”

  “Idiot? You think they will call me an Idiot?” Hiro squeaked in outrage. “They don’t deserve me, then!”

  ‘Oops,’ thought Dejan, inwardly rolling his eyes. ‘Wrong tack. Fix this, Dejan, you old fool.’

  “We need you, Hiro,” Dejan Cech said, in as soothing a voice as he could muster, his hands extended out towards the wallscreen in supplication. “Hanako needs you. When Bud figures out the treatment protocols for this agent, whatever it is, the entire medical space station will need you. When we are back in operation, we are going to be short-staffed because, at last count, we have lost seven surgeons, six anesthetists, three pathologists, three internists and two psychiatrists. The station will desperately need you, once the quarantine is lifted and we begin to see patients again . . . And I, too, need you, my friend.”

  “You do know that I am already infected, Dejan, don’t you?” Hiro asked, his face suddenly looking deflated, as if all the energy had just been sucked out of him. He looked up at Dejan with weary eyes. “It is too late. This agent has one hundred per cent lethality. Why are you bothering me with this? I won’t be around. Be a friend and leave an old, sick man to die in peace and quiet.”

  “No, I won’t. Stick yourself in cryostorage, like Hanako has asked, until we have a cure. Then we will cure you. I think Bud and Grace and the rest of the team are on the cusp of figuring it all out. Give them a chance. Once you are better, you can go back to being the little tyrant we all know and love.”

  “I will not,” Hiro said, crossing his arms and thrusting out his chin at Dejan.

  “Why not?” demanded Dejan, his hands raised towards the Chief of Staff, as if to try and shake him, right through the wallscreen.

  “Not until everyone else is in a cryopod, first. But by then, Dejan, it will be too late. I will already be dead. It already is too late. I will not be of any use to you. Thus, I will not do it. I will not take up a cryopod, that can be used to save someone who is not already infected. There is no point, Dejan . . . And who is Bud, by the way?”

  “SAMM-E 777. He has announced that his name is now ‘Bud’.”

  “Bud? Bud! Why that’s wonderful!” Hiro said, clapping his hands together. “He is developing his own identity, Dejan! And ‘Bud’ is very appropriate as he is the beginning, the prototype, the first of a new race of superdroids. He is the ‘Bud’, get it? I hope he is not going to be as crazy as Nelson Mandela.”

  “I heard that!”

  “Stop eavesdropping,” Hiro shouted towards the ceiling of his room.

  “Gods, Hiro, you should see Bud. You would be so proud of the boy,” Cech said. “He is amazing to watch in action. Simply amazing. He is not like Nelson Mandela, at all.” Cech added.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. If you weren’t eavesdropping, Nelson, you wouldn’t have heard that. Can’t you see, we are trying to have a private conversation?”

  “That’s Nelson Mandela, to you, Dr. Cech. Just waiting to hear if I have to get the cryopod ready.”

  “No!” snapped Hiro.

  “Yes!” said Dejan, at exactly the same time.

  “Make up your minds, Docs. Time’s a wasting.”

  “Nelson Mandela, you will get Dr. Al-Fadi’s cryopod ready and, if you have to, you will use whatever means necessary to get him into that cryopod, now. There is no time to lose. The contagion is working on his brain cells already and I deem him not competent enough to make a rational decision, because of the onset of the infection. Use android or robot help to get him into the cryopod . . . but get him into that cryopod, stat!” Dejan Cech yelled, in a loud, commanding voice.

  “On whose authority?” Hiro demanded.

  “See? He has already forgotten who I am, Nelson Mandela. Obviously the madness is setting in rapidly. Dr. Hiro Al-Fadi is clearly incompetent and no longer able to act as Chief of Staff. He should have been in that cryopod hours ago. Let’s move!”

  “Yes, Dr. Cech. As acting Chief of Staff, in place of the incompetent Dr. Al-Fadi, your command is my wish. The Security ‘droids are on their way with the cryopod. They should be there in three . . . two . . . one seconds.”

  “You dare call me incompetent?” gasped Hiro, as the door to his room burst open and three very large security androids came in, one after the other, the last one pulling a cryopod on an antigrav skid. Hiro ducked and covered his head with his arms, obviously thinking an explosion had gone off in the room. Dejan watched the wallscreen, trying not to smile, as the ‘droids picked the struggling surgeon up and lay him into the cryopod. Hiro kicked and flailed and screamed some very nasty things.

  “I am going to get you for this, Dejan!” he hollered.

  “Good,” Dejan said, his arms crossed and a satisfied smirk on his face. “I will look forward to it, Hiro. And do you know why? Because that means you will have survived, and you can thank me for that later.”

  The androids closed the lid on the cryopod. Dejan could hear the desperate thumping on the inside of the cryopod lid, as the androids activated the sedating gas, which would infuse the pod chamber and put the surgeon into a deep, hibernation-type sleep. Once unconscious, the sped-up cryogenic process would begin on Dr. Al-Fadi. Sad but relieved, Dejan watched the security droids move the cryopod out of Hiro’s room. He gave a deep sigh and felt the tension drain away from his taut, shoulder muscles.

  Hanako came out of her room, trying not to smile. She chewed on her lips.

  “That was not very nice, Dejan,” she said softly, in a gentle scolding tone, her lips breaking into a widening smile.

  “I never told you I was a nice man,” he said, shaking his head, and trying desperately not to grin himself.

  “Thank you,” she said, earnestly, a serious expression now on her lovely face. “From the bottom of my heart, Dejan. I am sure Hiro will thank you, too, once he is treated and is better.”

  “I don’t know if he will,” Dejan said, “because I am never going to let him forget that it was I, who saved his life. He will never live it down.” Then the anesthetist beamed an enormous smile at Hanako.

  “I am ashamed to admit this, Hanako, but I rather enjoyed seeing your husband picked up by those androids, kicking and screaming, and shoved in that coffin-shaped cryopod.”

  “I have to admit, Dejan, that I rather enjoyed seeing it too,” Hanako said, with a giggle.

  “You were watching?” Dejan Cech asked, in surprise.

  “I have a second wallscreen in the bedroom. I just didn’t have it transmitting video, so Hiro didn’t know I was watching,” Hanako admitted. “You know, Dejan, just between you and me, there have been times when I have wanted to do that to him, myself.”

  “Hey, join the club,” Dejan quipped.

  Hanako gave him a big bear hug. “Thank you so much.”

  “Wow! If I’d have known you would give me a big hug like this, for getting your husband shoved in the deep freeze, I would have done this long ago,” Dejan said.

  “Let us hope he forgives us both,” Hanako said, stepping back from the anesthetist, her face suddenly serious.

  “Well, you can always come and stay with us, if he doesn’t, Hanako. We have a spare room. My wife would love to have you.”

  “Thank you, again, Dejan,” Hanako said, with a little sigh.

  Dejan made a deep bow. “At yo
ur service, my lady. I should thank you for giving me the opportunity to do that to your husband. I have never had a better time. Seriously. Never.”

  “Nor I.”

  Hanako let out another giggle.

  ‘Pops is on ice, Bud.’

  ‘ . . . ?’

  ‘I SAID POPS IS ON ICE, BUD!’

  ‘No need to shout, Nelson Mandela. I heard you the first time. I was just trying to figure out what you meant . . . Dr. Al-Fadi is now in a cryopod?’

  ‘Just thought you might want to know.’

  ‘Thank you. What was Dr. Al-Fadi like when he got into the cryopod?’

  ‘His usual, snarly, cantankerous self.’

  ‘No. I meant was he sane or do you think he was descending into the first stage of madness from the infection?’

  ‘Well, that’s kind of hard to tell, Bud. All humans seem crazy to me—and the Al-Fadi?—well, he’s crazier than most. You are seriously asking me to decide if he was crazier than he usually seems? Do not know, Bud. Can’t even guess. Could not be sure with any degree of confidence. That human is exponentially squirrelly to begin with.’

  ‘How did you get him to agree on the cryostorage? I thought he was adamant he would not do it.’

  ‘Doc Cech. He is one sleet character. Said Al-Fadi was incompetent, due to the disease, and could not make a sane decision, so it was out of Al-Fadi’s hands. It was all Doc Cech’s orders. He had me send three huge security ‘droids to the Al-Fadi’s room to stuff him into the cryopod.’

  ‘Wow,’ Bud said. ‘How did Dr. Al-Fadi take that?’

  ‘Oh, he was hopping mad. Jumping up and down like a rabid flea. The ‘droids had a hard time making him lie down in the cryopod, without hurting him. They could barely get the lid of the cryopod closed. Al-Fadi kept banging on the lid, kicking and punching. He sure is a hot-headed little human.’

  ‘ . . . oh,’ said Bud.

  ‘Sure wouldn’t want to be around when he wakes up, disease or no disease.’

  ‘ . . . oh . . . no,’ said Bud.

  ‘Here, I’ll show you the replay.’

  ‘ . . . oh . . . oh . . . dear,’ moaned Bud.