Chapter 1
“There is a woman out there, struggling to give birth. Her body is being ripped apart by her child, and the stitches she will receive will be with her forever. Do you understand that?”
“Yeah, man, totally.”
“And this is why you’ve been brought in?”
“Yeah, one hundred percent.”
“You ate a bug?”
“Yeah.”
“You ate a ‘suspicious looking bug’ and your family forced you to go to the emergency room? I have blood on my gloves, I just saw a heroin addict with an infected arm that’s spewing pus, and she’s only seventeen. I just saw three children being born today, and 2 of them had to be cut out of their mothers.”
“Look, man, if you want, I can go back.”
“Don’t you understand? You’ve already wasted my time with your––your stupidity. The profundity of a grown, adult male who can’t seem to wrap his head around the idea that he shouldn’t eat a bug he found in a fast food parking lot––it’s baffling. I hope you choke on your own spittle. I hope you truly injure yourself forever doing this. You have wasted so, so much time and potential. There was a––a––a small child, a small child, with a broken arm, and that child had to wait in line behind you. You. You deserve the worst. Genuinely.”
A nurse attempted to drag the doctor out of the room but he remained, taking his gloves off and wiping his hands. The gloves left a trail of dark brown and red and black on his tray.
“I’ve been wanting to say this for a long time. I sacrificed my––my education, my personal time––multiple relationships, too––just for people like you. For people who I thought deserved to be helped, and to be cared for, and to be treated right. I thought that every human being, no matter how dumb, deserved help. Because that’s what it means to be a doctor––to never turn away from the grotesque, or the low IQ, or the seemingly impossible. Because it is my duty to help people, to make sure that they always get the treatment that they need, because all people are worth it. I’ve been having a hard day, what’s your name again?”
“Tommy.”
“Tommy. Tommy. Tommy, I’ve been having a hard day, and I’ve also been having a hard night. My shift started at six in the morning; now it’s one in the morning. Do you know what that kind of painful, searing, mind-numbing lack of sleep is like? Do you know what it’s like to pray, every day, that you get let off early? Because of the magnitude of human suffering people like me have to go through? I’m––I’m repeating myself. I know. People say I do that. But… You… You are different, Tommy. I’ve never seen someone as uninhibited in their stupidity as you are. I feel real, genuine loathing for you. Why did you even eat that bug in the first place?”
“Thought it would give me psychic powers.”
“Why? Genuinely.”
A new voice interrupted the conversation:
“Mr. Carlyle, we’ve got many people who are––”
“Not now, Tiffany. Not now. Not when I’ve been given this kind of an opportunity. Tommy, where did it ever come into your brain that eating a ‘suspicious looking bug’ would give you powers?”
“Felt right.”
“Felt right? Are you––No. No. I’m going to maintain my composure because I’m better than people like you. What would you do with those powers? How could you even go about your life?”
“I’d probably just own up to it, you know, right? Like I’d have my name and face known and everything, because then I’d be a celebrity n’ shit, and that’d be, like, awesome, or something.”
“You’d own up to it?”
“Yeah, ’cuz, like, every superhero is for some reason, like, afraid of their own identity? I think? Like that one guy who crawls on walls never owns up to who he is, I guess. Like they’re afraid of it.”
“You think superheroes in comics have aliases because they’re insecure or something?”
“Probably. Listen, man, I don’t know, it’s not like they, you know, like, show their thoughts in a speech bubble. You can never know who a superhero truly is, because like, it’s simply not revealed to you.”
“How… What?”
“Come again?”
“How are you… What does that even mean?”
“Like, you know, doc, like––that one super guy. The one who flies and also happens to like, be super strong, right, I’ll never know the totality of that person. I’ll never know what he truly is, or what he truly thinks, you know what I mean, man?”
“The whole point of superheroes is that they have predictable personalities that don’t fluctuate. Even if they’re ‘complex’ characters, they’ll always act based on a set of values and personal likes and dislikes. How did you not pick up on that?”
“Listen man, apples to oranges, tomato tomato. But yeah. I’m just living, man.”
A nearby bottle shifted just then, careening to the floor.
“Tiffany, clean that up. Thank you. Alright, Tommy, I think I’ve had enough of you. This visit will cost you around $400, and I will not prescribe you any medication because of the enormous waste of time this has been. Get out.”
Tommy got up, the door opening for him as he was about to exit. Tommy stared blankly at the door for a moment before groaning loudly. He extended his hand without touching the door, and yet, it swung back and forth. He groaned even louder. Carlyle looked up at him in amazement.
“What––how could you––”
“Dude! No! I wanted… I wanted the other kind of psychic powers… How did I get the lame kind!?”
Carlyle backed away in horror.
“I forget what it’s called… Uh… Telephonic powers? Kinetic power? I don’t know, man. Whatever. This is pretty cool, too, I guess…”
A billion questions flooded Carlyle’s mind as he realized that if Tommy wanted to, he could’ve crushed his spine into red dust with that kind of ability. The beauty and terror of his realization that his intelligence and cruelty could never mean anything to Tommy was overwhelming and immediate. He knew that he would have to resign.
