zz2012SiteHTheAnnex

I stood silent, staring at my old home. The place where I had tirelessly worked and live. I had spent my residency here, working with the sick. Adjacent to the building was where we kept our pet experiments. We being the other residents and I. Our supervisors knew what we were doing, but they didn't interfere. In retrospect, I don't think that they really cared. We experimented on dogs all the way up to ourselves, risking our lives in the process. We tested drugs we had concocted in the lab and led trials to observe the effects. In the same building were we did our experiments were classrooms. They were only used for the occasional lecture and lab which was few and far between now that we were residents. As residents we were able to help out in the research department of the Infirmary, looking at pathogens and tissue samples. Residency was tiresome and grilled everyone hard, but all of us thrived under the hard conditions of working the hospital floor. That was until it all went wrong.
 * The Annex **

Frei fever had broken out in the navy base. It had begun with the Admiral Swain's daughter; she had contracted the disease by being trapped in a well for an extended period of time. The doctors and scientists on hand worked desperately to find a cure that would never come. By now I was a full-fledged doctor that had to deal with the crisis head on. Oh, how I missed my residency days. The experiments I had performed in my residency were reminiscent of the experiments I performed now as a doctor, only now a lot more was on the line. The only treatment seemed to be vigorous exercise. Then there was the segregation. The segregation was when the tall and short were separated; the tall were known as the reds and the short as yellows because short people were more likely to contract the disease which caused the whites of your eyes to yellow. The experiments used tried and failed to find a cure. When our numerous experiments ended up killing someone, it all went to pieces.

Residents and staff alike were in shock over the death. We had killed a young boy, he was only four years old and had contracted Frei fever as a newborn. His name was Tyler. And he was autistic. He is preserved in my memory forever as the boy with the toothbrush; for his favorite toy was half of a toothbrush which he would throw up in the air and catch or pretend was an airplane. His favorite game was to hide behind my back and dodge from side to side as I tried to catch him. He was a ray of sunshine. And his death was not, and is not, justified. We had been experimenting with a drug called Frinex. All the other trials had gone routinely with no effects, when Tyler’s death occurred. The only problem was that the drug had worked a miracle on a middle-aged woman in the same trial as Tyler, and so we kept testing.

But after Tyler’s death my drive had been extinguished. It was as if someone had pulled a blanket over the sun. I no longer felt the raging ambition that had once driven me to become a general surgeon. And this was when the IPCC stepped in. The IPCC was the International Pathogen Control Corporation. They planned to capitalize upon our suffering. The IPCC quickly began their operations and created hundreds of trials to be tested on the annex residents. The yellows were treated the worse as they either already observed symptoms or were likely to. It was quickly found out that much of our staff was considered “inadequate” by the IPCC. That’s when the budget cuts began. Some of the most respectable doctors I have ever known were fired only to be replaced by IPCC drones. After a year or so, I was fired. The IPCC had my medical license revoked and began a large campaign to rid the base of the remaining doctors. From then on the base was in the hands of the capitalist IPCC executives who could care less for people like Tyler. And so my life ended. All I had worked for, gone to pieces.