Doctor Knows Best (part two)

Jennifer's mother was diagnosed with a mental disorder at an early age. They lived in a small village where nothing was kept a secret from anyone else, so the neighbors had a field day with the gossip. Jennifer mostly ignored them, but it was unbearable to know that when heads were bent as she passed by, the whispers were always about her crazy mother.

When her brother died, her mother stayed out in the garden for three days. Jennifer remembered taking food and blankets out to her. She was always there keeping her company while she muttered and trimmed her plants. Now there was always a smile on her face, as if her green friends soothed her and took away all that was evil in the world. She often said they spoke to her and told her secrets. The women in the village passed, lowering their upturned noses just to peer at her and snicker and whisper to each other. They clucked their tongues sympathetically at Jennifer like Mother Hens, and brought food daily in exchange for gathering gossip. Getting a glimpse of the Smith family those days was like finding a rare jewel. The stories about them grew and became outlandish, yet the people who heard them hung onto every word, absorbed in the nonsense.

Jennifer stood by her mother even though as time went on the rumors started to bother her. She always lived with the hope that the sane woman she knew and still remembered when she was very young, would return to her.

When she was fourteen years old, as she was approaching home, she noticed a large group of people congregated at her gate. Instantly dread consumed her. Her books fell to the ground as her hands moved to cover her mouth. With her stomach churning, she ran over to her house pushing past her neighbors and warding off the hands that tugged at her. She felt as if she was in one of those dreams where she was trying to run and her legs were like lead, barely moving at all.

A strange man was standing on top of her her mother's dresser in her bedroom, cutting down a piece of rope hanging from the ceiling fan. In a daze she noticed her father sitting on the floor in a corner weeping, his hands covering his face, and the policeman who lived two houses away speaking in hushed tones to him, notebook in hand and handkerchief patting his forehead. Her mother was now limp in the strange man's arms and he lowered her onto the bed, where the coroner stood waiting to examine her further.

Quite opposite to the stories that followed after, Jennifer did not faint or even cry out. She went quietly to where her father sat and slumped down to the floor beside him hoping that her mere presence could offer some small type of comfort to him, and praying that his presence would do the same - after all, they only had each other now.

And now fourteen years later, here she was - Jennifer Smith. Sleeping in a strange bed in a psychiatric hospital where many would argue her mother should have been instead, a long time ago.

She could not remember how she got there a few weeks ago, or even if she was crazy like the other patients she saw around her. Up to that Sunday morning, even her name had escaped her, but when she climbed out of bed and looked in the mirror it suddenly came to her.

"Jennifer".
"Jennifer Smith! That's my name!"

For the first time in weeks a hint of her trademark smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I remembered my name!"

"Jennifer Smith"

But what jolted the memory? She looked down at the palm of her hand. The only sign that it had gone through trauma days before was a very small but slightly visible scar. Had it healed already? Was that possible?

She remembered what the pink flesh looked like when Elvis had cut it open, and then the pebble that he inserted after.

Was it the pebble that made her remember? She closed her eyes trying to scan her brain for yet another memory that was probably hidden, something that would help her discover what was happening.

Nothing.

Helga burst into the room and offered her a big grin. "Scary" she thought. It was the first time she saw her show any type of emotion but it did not warm her heart towards her. Cautiously Jennifer made eye contact - something she had trouble doing even before she woke up in the hospital.

Helga continued smiling and helped her out of her gown. "How do we feel this morning love?" Jennifer muttered noncommittally. Love? Had the world gone mad?

This time Helga instructed her to walk with her down the corridor. It was then Jennifer realised that she could walk properly without feeling drugged or woozy. "They've stopped drugging me. Why?"

She felt odd walking. On the way they passed other patients she was familiar with. Some were on wheelchairs looking dazed and she wondered if she looked like that not too long ago. The others that were walking comprised of two kinds - "Crazy" who talked and laughed to themselves and walked funny, and "Weird" who were silent, staring and scared. She thought she would fit right in with Weird right now. But why didn't they look crazy too? What kind of a psychiatric hospital was this?

Did she turn insane at some point of her life just like her mother and ended up here?

The Blue Room loomed menacingly ahead. She had the customary flashback to her father when she spotted it. Then she remembered that the hospital in that memory was the one he died in. A regular hospital with regular nurses with kind eyes and warm hands. She remembered the young male doctor who escorted her to the hospital chapel when her father died to pray with her silently. It was as if he was her only friend in the world then. A complete stranger.

Now in this institution, she felt so alone. There were no kind words or deeds here. Just a big bowl of Crazy and Weird and lost memories. As the West Wing of the corridor neared she felt nervous but determined. "This time I'm going to run. No more experiments for me. That's it." She never felt so determined and sure of herself before. There was no way they were putting her back in that chair. She was NOT crazy.

She tensed as she kept on walking down the corridor. Helga was watching her intently and Jennifer hoped she couldn't read her mind. She then saw her stop at the door to another room on the corridor that Jennifer had barely noticed before, and opened it ushering her in. Jennifer was taken aback. For the short time she was aware of the hospital she was never brought into this room, and she was almost convinced they were carrying her to the dreaded West Wing.

Mr. Big was waiting on her. She had labelled the six foot seven inches man who visited and spoke with her every other day.

"Have a seat Jennifer" he smiled and waved his hand to the chair in front of him. Jennifer halted. This was the first time someone called her by name since she got there. She found it weird that it was coincidentally the same day she remembered. They knew it all along.

"Is that my name?" she answered.

"Isn't it?" he smiled. He was a good looking man, with hard strong features and deep blue eyes behind the spectacles he wore. His eyes bore into her and she shivered as she thought that his smile never reached them. Cold and calculating.

"So tell me, what do you remember?". Just for a split second his eyes flashed to her hand that was cut days before and returned to her.

"What I know is that I'm not mad, I don't deserve to be here, and Elvis put something in me - I want to know what it is". His eyes twinkled with amusement as he realised that she had put a name to the doctor in the experimental lab. She thought to herself "He's quick. Intelligent.'"

"No you're not mad." He acquiesced. She was surprised that there was no objection from him.

"Then why am I here?". She was getting braver by the second.

"You have what is called a DKB inserted in your hand. Digital Kinetic Bulb. It can do amazing things.". He stood up to reach to a cubby-hole on the wall next to him, opened a blue box and took one out to show her. Fearfully she took it into her hand and turned it around. It looked a bit unimpressive. Oval shaped, bulging a little in the middle like an eye. The covering was probably made out of titanium.

Digital Kinetic Bulb. Her head whipped up to look at him "A tracking device?"

He smiled again. "That and more". The back of her neck started to hurt.

He swiveled to the side and punched something on his laptop. A screen popped up and he continued typing. With a few more strokes he noisily pressed enter and turned again, the tips of his fingers meeting each other and a smirk on his face. The DKB inserted in her hand started to vibrate. The slight tingle made her almost drop the other she was holding. She hastily gave it back to him. Her hand looked a little red in middle, but it was not moving. It was probably just vibrating inside.

"What the hell are you doing?" she yelled at him.

"Take a look at this" he beckoned excitedly, as if they were sitting having a regular conversation over a cup of coffee. Scared but curious, she leaned forward to look.

"See that?" that number represents your DKB. "We can track you anywhere within thousands of miles, we can control your thoughts, emotions, can dictate what you want to eat for breakfast, and teach you how to knit and drive a space shuttle if we wanted to".

Jennifer was horrified and sickened. She wanted to throw up. Then a thought occurred to her, "But it's not in my brain! It's in my hand!".

"Yes it would be too dangerous to be in your head, wouldn't it? By last night the node growing from it would have connected to your brain. It's now synchronized."

Jennifer wasn't following. She didn't want to listen anymore. But she was compelled to ask "Why are you doing this? Why me?'

Mr. Big answered her ignoring her last question "By accessing what's going through anyone's brain, we can digitally change it and send signals back to the Bulb. Do you have any idea how many people we can help with this? This hospital was full of insane people. Over the past two years we have had major break-through. There were people here who couldn't use the toilet or feed themselves or have a decent conversation. But now they CAN! We can program normalcy back into them. Help them remember things they have long forgotten"

He leaned forward his eyes shining "Jennifer. We can change the world!"

"But why me?" she retaliated. "I'm not one of those!"

"I know. But your mother was. We also need to experiment on someone who has the gene but is not yet exhibiting signs of illness"

"Wait! I have the gene? What gene? How do you know that?"

"Jennifer, we know everything".

She stood up shakily. "You need my permission to do this. You don't have it".

He replied "Who do you have waiting for you at home? Smithy?" She recoiled. Smithy was the name of her German Shepherd. They really did know everything.

She phased out and had stopped listening. All she knew was that she had to get out of there. In one fluent motion Jennifer grabbed the DKB Mr. Big had left on the desk and through it at the window. The glass broke and the DKB disappeared out the window. She had expected it to be noisier than that, there was just a clink as if someone was tapping a spoon on a glass to make a speech. Mr. Big looked stunned and then ran to the window to see where it landed. She was out the door and headed towards the West Wing at top speed now. Seconds after, the alarm sounded throughout the building. She felt her hand vibrate.

"Oh crap!" He was trying to control her.

Her heart was pounding as if it would explode. Already there were nurses and patients all hurrying towards the main hallway away from her. Into the West Wing she hustled and skidded to a halt next to the chair she sat on some days ago, having her minor surgery done. Frantically she looked around and spotted the small white cabinet on wheels that Elvis was rummaging through for medical supplies. The first drawer held what she was looking for, a shiny new scalpel.

"Hey!" Elvis was bounding towards her at full speed from a corner of the room. She pushed the cabinet towards him and ran back out the room, hearing him topple over and curse behind her.

Jennifer didn't have a clue where she was going. All she knew was that she was running for her life. Into the corridor she ran, then made the first turn she saw, her palm tingling and the scalpel in her pocket of her patient's garb. She saw a table up ahead with white coats heaped on top of it and realised that she had stumbled upon the laundry area. Swiftly she grabbed a coat and flung her arms through the sleeves while she ran. The collar she kept over her hair to disguise the length. She was lucky that the coat was long down to her calves and the telltale colour of her patient's gown was fully hidden.

Instead of using the elevator she flew down a flight of steps. Here the alarm sounded muffled. She had taken off her slippers earlier on and was now barefoot on the cold stairway. Her breathing was loud and ragged and she forced herself to clamp her mouth shut, just in case there was someone else coming up or down the stairway. No sooner had she had that thought, she heard voices below her in the stairwell. An almost audible cry escaped her lips. She ran back up to the flight of steps before where she had seen a gap in the corner of the stairwell. She had to take the white coat off and huddle in the corner pressed against the wall. Although it was very dark she waited trembling, counting down to when she would be caught and when it would be all over. Her palm continued to vibrate. The sooner the DKB was removed - the better.

She imagined that they knew where she was and was coming to get her. As long as this device was in her hand. She would always be hunted.

The voices sounding as if they were now receding. They were already on their way down. She looked at her palm, took out the scalpel and and closed her eyes tightly, praying that she wouldn't pass out. The tip of the scalpel touched her hand, and she opened her eyes to check the position.

"Don't!"

In terror she dropped the scalpel on the stairs and gasped at her intruder. His face familiar yet worried.

"Jennifer, I will help you. Come with me." Dr. Michael Harris stuck his hand out waiting for her to take it. She stared, not comprehending, not making the connection of what her father's doctor was doing there trying to help her. She was very suspicious - her mother always said to her "Be wary of those who help you for their own good - not yours".

Yet his face seemed comforting and concerned. "Quick! you have to hurry! I promise the minute we get away from here, I'm going to take that bulb out of you. But we can't do it here, it will slow both of us down".

Well here goes nothing.

She grabbed the scalpel where it had fallen next to his feet, pushed it in her pocket and grabbed his hand.

Together they ran down the stairs together, quickly and as quietly as they could. On his advice she donned the white coat as she had before, and hurried out the emergency exit with him, straight into an awaiting car. Mr. Big was staring in the other direction, his cell phone to his ear, apparently shouting at the person he was talking to. She looked straight ahead as they passed him. By this time the car park was filled with people, doctors and patients in one big huddle, like at the end of a big game at the stadium where her father used to take her.

For what seemed an eternity, they finally passed through the exit of the hospital grounds, Michael flashing his doctor's ID through the window at the security while she shrunk in the corner of the heavily tinted vehicle praying for a miracle. In five minutes they were out on the Interstate, away from the institution, and it was only then she started to relax and breathe normally.

Michael had pulled a dark heavy cloth out of a bag in the back seat and wrapped it around her palm. He leaned forward to give the driver directions and reclined to watch her. "Please don't worry, trust me." He must have seen the look on her face. " In ten minutes I am going to take the bulb out. And then I am going to explain everything to you. Trust me".

She nodded at him. She had no choice but to believe in him for now. There was no one else to turn to, nowhere else to go as she couldn't even remember where she lived. "Thank you" she whispered looking at him. She closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.