Faasp Hospital

by Thadd Evans

  “Voicemail, a call from another doctor, says that hundreds of videos stop several minutes into lectures. It will take a while to repair this.”

  I exhaled, my jaw muscles tensed, struggling to come up with a solution.

  “You look miserable. Sorry I had to be so blunt.”

  I ran fingers through my hair, worried. “These are huge projects. “ I offered more details.

  He rubbed his chin. “If I can help, let me know.”

  I paused, trying to focus on all our goals, but couldn’t. There were too many. “Thanks.”

  “It’s time to get back to work.” He stared at a screen.

  I left. My phone rang. Chills ran down my spine.

  Wenda blurted, “This video of a nanobot repairing an optic nerve was filmed at the wrong angle. I’ll tell you more soon.”

  “Okay.” I bit my lip, frustrated.

  Later that week, on Thursday’s afternoon, Linda Patel, an experienced programmer that Donald hired hours ago, entered my office. We shook hands and sat down. I told her about my recent conversation with Ray.

  “Understood. Donald told me to speak with Dr. Sanchez after I talked to you.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She left.

  A recent email from Donald appeared. According to it, Linda, a woman with undergraduate and graduate degrees in Physiology along with a Bachelors in Computer Science, had created, repaired, and updated over six hundred databases, using Javway, Opop and four other object coding languages. She, a fastidious programmer with six years of work experience at INTF, Information and Technology Fellows Inc., might end up being our CTO, Chief Technical Officer.

  That evening, I lay on the cot. In my mind’s eye, a worst-case scenario, Nancy was blind, the operation had failed. I broke into a cold sweat.

  Chapter Five

  Ten mornings later, I went down a hall.

  In a wheelchair, one being pushed by a male orderly, a female stranger with sunglasses, her cheeks and empty arm sockets covered by bandages, groaned.

  I flinched. “Tammy?”

  She winced. “Yeah.” The sunglasses slid down, revealing her blood shot eyes and swollen eyelids, a gut wrenching sight.

  “How are you?”

  “So so. My vision is blurred.

  “You sound like Justin.”

  I smiled, my stomach muscles tensed. “It’s me.”

  She choked up. “I miss my arms.”

  I blinked. “Sorry to hear it.”

  Tammy nodded. “By the way, in a week, I have to move. Do you know a good place to live?”

  “There’s a vacancy in my apartment building.”

  “Awesome.”

  “Should I call the manager, tell him to contact you?”

  “Yeah.” She gave me her cell phone number.

  At the end of the week, I entered a hospital room.

  Tammy was in bed, her back against the wall, both cheeks and jaw covered by bandages. Sunglasses, protective eyewear, slid down her nose. She pushed them up with a shaky robotic hand, a silver prosthetic. “Ouch.”

  I recoiled and sat down. “What hurts?”

  “My arm sockets.”

  “The spot where they put in the robotic arms?”

  “Yeah.” She bent two fingers. The others, along with her thumb, didn’t move. “I’m trying to make a fist. It’s hard.”

  “How do your eyes feel?”

  “My eye sockets sting.”

  “Does it hurt a lot?”

  “Yeah.”

  My neck muscles tightened, a nervous reaction. “I’ll observe your body movements and update code. Dr. Haar will use some of that information to speed up the healing.”

  Tammy offered a weak smile. “I hope it works.”

  I nodded.

  She moved a finger, trembling.

  “That looks painful.”

  “It hurts like hell.”

  I cringed and typed.

  She grimaced, then flexed her trembling hand slowly.

  I swallowed, concerned.

  Tammy stuck out a thumb, lips contorted in agony.

  In my mind’s eyes, a nightmarish possibility, she tripped and fell, breaking her leg.

  She reached out, fingers twitching, grabbed a pencil, and dropped it. “This is hard. I hate it.”

  “This will take time.”

  “Fuck. I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Keep at it.” I shifted in the chair, feeling pessimistic. Yesterday, Dr. Haar told me that if the code were correct, Tammy’s arms, hands and fingers would function normally in a month. Was he too optimistic?

  Chapter Six

  The following evening, Tammy and I sat in the hospital cafeteria, coffee in hand.

  She grimaced. “I wish my vision would improve.”

  I smiled, worried. “In a few days, it will.”

  She frowned, raised the cup, hand shaking, and drank. Coffee dribbled down her chin.

  I scowled, grabbed a napkin, and wiped the liquid off.

  “Thanks.”

  I took a deep breath, concerned. “No problem.”

  Her hand jerked, out of control. The cup dropped.

  I grabbed the plummeting object, placed it on the table, and pushed the drink toward her.

  She glowered. “What happened?”

  “It’s no big deal.”

  “I’m clumsy.”

  “You’re doing fine.”

  “Thanks for being nice.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  At sunrise, the next day, I entered an exercise room, a place designed for recovering patients.

  A physical therapist, a handsome man, touched Tammy’s wrist, comforting her. “Move your fingers again. Practice.”

  I frowned, jealous of him.

  He glared at me. “Who are you?”

  I answered, blinking, put off by his rude tone.

  He scowled. “Why are you here?”

  I told him.

  He gave me a dirty look.

  Tammy smiled. “Justin, that sounds like you.”

  “It is.” I offered a halfhearted grin, disappointed that this charming woman’s vision hadn’t improved.

  Tammy flexed her arm. “Ouch.

  “By the way, Justin, this is Roger.”

  His brow tightened.

  I rolled my eyes. “Glad to meet you.” Would he respond to my attempt to create polite conversation?

  Roger examined her elbow, ignoring my remark.

  Tammy paused, a curious expression on her face. “Roger, what are you thinking?”

  “About your rehabilitation. I want it to go smoothly.”

  She glowered. “Why didn’t you answer Justin after he said he was glad to meet you?”

  He recoiled. “I nodded. Isn’t that good enough?”

  I gritted my teeth, upset by his lie.

  Tammy sighed. “I guess so.”

  Roger shook his head and grumbled to himself.

  She hesitated, a baffled expression on her face. “What did you say? Please, talk louder.”

  He gave me the finger. “It wasn’t important.”

  I typed, not responding to the rude gesture.

  Roger said, “Extend both arms. You need to improve your coordination.”

  “I’ll do that.” She moved each one, quivering.

  I flinched, worried that her recovery would take months.

  The following Thursday, Tammy made a fist.

  Roger grinned. “Excellent.”

  An event came to mind. Three days ago, this sexy woman left a message on my voicemail, told me she had moved into an apartment.

  She frowned. “Justin, you look upset. What’s wrong?”

  I smiled. “You can see me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Great.”

  She smiled.

  “Anyway, sorry about not returning your call. I wanted to help you move, but couldn’t beca
use of my busy schedule.”

  “Don’t worry. Roger helped.”

  I nodded, feeling guilty.

  His face lit up. “Tammy, let’s go out tonight.”

  “I’ll think about it. Call me tonight.”

  He scowled. “All right.”

  I blenched because he asked her out for a date so soon and left the room, irritated. I had waited too long, didn’t have a chance with this alluring goddess.

  On Tuesday, I entered the exercise room. “Hi, how are you?”

  Tammy smiled. “Fine. It’s good to see you.”

  “You’re getting better.”

  “Yeah.”

  Roger entered. “Justin, you’re interrupting.”

  My adrenaline pumped, a nervous response. “I’m just visiting.”

  He glared at me. “Come back in a few hours. Otherwise, her recovery will take longer.”

  Tammy frowned. “Roger, I like seeing him.”

  “Don’t argue with me.”

  I flinched.

  Tammy blurted, “Roger, let him stay a couple of minutes.”

  “No. Other patients have to use this small room.”

  She blinked.

  I left, teeth clenched. This space was big enough for several people. This man didn’t want me to speak with a woman he might be dating. Was he courting her? I, a busy employee, someone without much spare time, didn’t know. Should I ask her if she was going out with him? Yes. When? I wasn’t sure. In my mind’s eyes, a horrible possibility, she told me she loved Roger with all her heart. I cringed, not wanting to have that conversation with her.

  Near the end of the week, I pushed a button. My voicemail switched on. “It’s Tammy. I’m going home in a couple of hours. Please, visit me before I leave.”

  I cringed. Her message, a call I didn’t notice until now because there were so many, was from yesterday. This job had taken over my life. She was probably dating Roger. I was only a friend, an acquaintance she would forget about soon.

  Chapter Seven

  Saturday morning, a couple of days later, after walking past buildings, bound for my mailbox, I did a double take, amazed.

  Tammy opened an apartment window. “Justin, come inside, say hello.”

  I entered, feeling odd because we hadn’t spoken to each other since she moved. Where was Roger?

  Tammy beamed. “I have to change clothes. Wait here.”

  I nodded as the sweet smell of incense, sandalwood, grew stronger.

  She returned, dressed in a sexy black outfit, sunglasses, a cat suit, thigh-high boots, footwear with four-inch heels and a strap on dildo. “How do I look?”

  “Wonderful.” My dick rose.

  To my right, a gorgeous blonde in a red miniskirt and knee-high boots came out of a room, and kissed Tammy on the mouth.

  The dildo went inside the blonde’s vagina.

  Tammy began thrusting. “Feels good.”

  Her partner laughed. “Love it.”

  I turned, jealous, wishing that Tammy would date me, and left.

  The blonde cooed, “Your dick is sexy.”

  Tammy giggled. “Thanks.”

  The following Sunday, at noon, after spending twenty-fours a day at Faasp for most of the week, I paused near my apartment, running errands.

  Tammy came out of a walkway, smiling. “How are you?”

  “Fine.”

  The gorgeous blonde arrived.

  Tammy grabbed her outstretched hand. “Justin, this is my lover, Jane.”

  The blonde glared at me and put one arm around Tammy.

  I offered a fake smile, feeling envious.

  Jane gazed at Tammy.

  I cringed, feeling that Jane wanted to speak with her, not me.

  Jane kissed her neck, unzipped the cat suit, and fondled Tammy’s breast.

  Tammy laughed, closed her eyes. “I can’t get enough.”

  I flinched and hurried off.

  Saturday, a week later, at dusk, outside my window, next to her apartment, Tammy, dressed in black, was sitting in a husky man’s lap. They kissed. She unzipped his motorcycle jacket and stroked his hairy chest.

  I scowled, feeling that she didn’t care about me, and walked away, not wanting to see any more.

  Chapter Eight

  Tuesday, at daybreak, after spending the night in my office, working long hours, my phone rang.

  Donald spoke, “We need to talk. Come see me in Room Five.”

  I winced. “Okay.” What had gone wrong?

  I sat down.

  He glowered. “Ray says you’re coding slowly.”

  “I’m doing my best.”

  “For the next few weeks, you’ll be working on the Yyn Project. If any serious issues come up, I’ll have to let you go.”

  I did a double take, horrified. “Okay.”

  “This is between you and me. Don’t tell anybody else about this conversation.”

  I nodded and left the room, my body cold, shocked. In my mind’s eye, pages of syntax, my recent projects, scrolled. As far as I knew, every line of code was correct. However, working faster would make it more difficult to spot any mistakes.

  My phone rang.

  Ray laughed. “Can you update the first few pages of Yyn in a couple of days?”

  I flinched, irritated by his sarcastic comment, one hinting that doing this was too difficult for me. “I’ll try.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.” His voice was replaced by a dial tone.

  “Hello, Ray?”

  Nobody answered. He had hung up.

  That evening, Wenda entered my office, and sat down. “It’s been a rough day.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Ray messed up about forty object methods.”

  I raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Really?

  “It’s true. But if I say anything to him about it, he might retaliate, lie to Donald, complain that my syntax is full of mistakes.”

  I paused, wondering if Ray was a back stabber. Another thought came to mind. Wenda could be his accomplice. If I complained about this fellow worker, she might tell him and both would speak to Donald, pointing out that my syntax had to be checked for errors. I offered a bland comment that didn’t point fingers at anyone, “That’s too bad.”

  “Yes.

  “By the way, this talk is private. Don’t tell anybody else about it. I don’t want to make any enemies.”

  I blinked. “Okay.”

  She left.

  Chapter Nine

  A week later, on Thursday, during a routine meeting in my office, Linda scowled. “This is a subject I don’t like discussing, but it can’t avoided.”

  I frowned. “What is it?”

  “Dr. Haar wants to hire more employees. Dr. Sanchez says they shouldn’t. That money is needed to buy more servers.”

  I bit my lip, analyzing the comment. Had they only told her, not Donald, about this? Not wanting to ask a question insinuating that she wasn’t important enough to be informed about purchasing decisions, I said, “Interesting.”

  “Definitely.”

  I frowned. “Did they say anything else about this topic?”

  She glowered. “I should finish this part of a project.” Linda walked away.

  Why didn’t she answer that question? My shoulder muscles tensed up, a paranoid response. Was Dr. Haar ignoring me because Donald wanted to reduce my hours or let me go? I typed, needing to meet a deadline.

  The following Wednesday, Ray entered my office, scowling. “Nine pages of Raib are filled with mistakes.”

  I flinched. “Which ones are you talking about?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. Don’t pretend.”

  My adrenaline pumped harder. “I don’t know. Give me more information.”

  He glowered. “Talking to you about this is a waste of time.”

  I winced, shocked. “What?”

  He hurried out of the ro
om.

  I bit my lip, angry, not sure what to do. My phone rang. I cringed.

  Donald said, “Come to my office.”

  “Okay.” I left, blinking. In my mind’s eye, a terrible possibility, he fired me.

  I sat down.

  Ray glared at me.

  Donald glanced at him. “We’ll talk more soon.”

  He glowered and left the room.

  Donald exhaled, a tired expression on his face. “Ray says your coding isn’t up to par.”

  I flinched, but didn’t say a word.

  “However, since you’re on Raib, not Meey, his comments don’t make any sense.”

  I smiled, relieved. Another concern popped into my head. Why hadn’t Donald or Ray told me about the Meey project? Was it bigger, more important than mine, or smaller?

  “The only people who have worked on Meey are Ray, Wenda, and Linda. He might be trying to make someone else look bad. However, without more information, I don’t know what to think.”

  I paused, nerves on edge, worried about mentioning a comment that would offend anyone.

  “Ray is talented.”

  “Yes.” It was amazing that Donald would tell me, a new employee, about this. He trusted me enough to share his private thoughts.

  “His work on the Raib project was outstanding.”

  “I did most of that and showed it to him.”

  He blinked, a surprised look on his face. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.” My thoughts sped up, trying to out figure out Donald’s next move.

  He frowned. “According to Ray, after finishing the first page, you said it was too tough, asked him to take over.”

  “I didn’t say it was too tough. Also, I told him to double-check a few object methods, not take over.”

  “This is troubling.”

  I nodded, sweating. Donald might think that questioning Ray’s skills was something a new employee shouldn’t do.

  He grimaced.

  I hesitated, jaw muscles tensed, wondering what to say next.