Shift 1
The whirring of the coffee machine snapped Intern out of his thoughts. He walked over mechanically, took one of the white cups, and looked at the coffee. It sat temptingly on the counter—hot and ready.
In the reflection, he saw his deep black eyes, his yellowish-brown fur, and his own smile. He twitched an ear, reached for the pot, and poured the hot coffee—calmly, matching his composed posture. His ears remained pricked upright as his paws set the pot aside and wrapped around the cup. He ran his long tongue over his lips before eagerly swallowing the drink, making low grumbling and hissing sounds. Only then did he exhale deeply—and hear the chime. A patient was coming in, as far as he knew. He silently studied the patient standing before him—pale and doubled over in pain. "I have... an appointment," the patient whispered, placing a folder neatly on the counter, despite the agony he was enduring. Intern set down his cup, walked briskly over to the patient, and examined the papers. Everything seemed legitimate. A quick stamp, a photo for the file, and on to the next step. It had to be quick. A fast snap, some data entry on the PC, and then he activated the printer. The printed image looked normal. The patient had blinked briefly—something Intern noticed immediately while entering the data. The name slip emerged neatly printed in lilac. Intern carefully took it and handed it to the patient. "Room 1," he heard, watching as the patient struggled to make his way there, plagued by pain. Intern carefully padded toward the door—which opened with a creak—and followed the patient. He wanted to offer a helping paw but pulled back. His ear twitched as the bell rang again. The patient could wait, though; there was someone else ahead of him. He escorted him to one of the treatment rooms, grabbing some herbs as he passed. He proceeded with the examination anyway—just to be sure the patient wasn't simply suffering from low blood sugar. He slowly inserted the needle, collected a small DNA sample from the blood cells, and moved toward the scanner. Getting the result required a quick movement: simply insert the sample and wait. He tapped the button in front of him, and the confirmation appeared. The problem was in the abdominal area—nothing the herbs couldn't handle. He turned back to study the patient before him. The cat was curled up in a fetal position, looking vulnerable and frightened. Intern placed the herbs on the bed beside him and tapped them; that should provide the soothing effect his animal stomach needed. The tomcat looked up with teary eyes, then at the herbs, reaching for them with a trembling paw. That was enough for Intern to move on to the next patient; as far as he was concerned, this one was practically cured. As he walked down the hallway, a strange sensation washed over him. It was like a rushing sound in his ears, followed by a tingling feeling. Intern didn't know what was happening. He shook himself vigorously and rubbed his nose and ears as his vision began to flicker. The sensation vanished as suddenly as it had arrived—like a camera flash—and the first thing Intern felt was the cold tile beneath his paws. He sprang up instinctively, slowly adjusting to the cold, but there was one thing he couldn't get used to: that bell. Cling-cling-cling. At every new sound, Intern’s ears twitched, and he hurried over to the patient. It was a blue dog with one hand resting on the call bell and the other rubbing across his eyes. Intern quickly identified the problem—as well as the flickering light, which he found irritating. He went back into the office, but this time it was different; this time, Intern was fully present in the moment. He could hear the coffee brewing and that annoying bell. Half-heartedly, he turned around and studied the patient. Only then did he notice the rattling of his modified straitjacket—the straps clinking and knocking against each other with every movement. The patient’s hand trembled slightly over the bell. He swallowed, cleared his throat, and began to speak as Intern approached. "I’d like to register as a patient," Intern heard him say as he checked the paperwork. He wasn't in autopilot mode anymore, but a touch of professionalism was simply part of the job. Intern grabbed the stamp and quickly stamped the form before moving to the camera to take a photo. The flash momentarily blinded him, causing him to shake his head, but it was a necessary step for system registration. The patient covered his eyes, too; meanwhile, the first person walked past behind him. "Th-thanks," he whispered, barely audible. He looked less distressed, though he didn't stay. Intern took a step toward the PC, typed in the data, and activated the printer. It took a moment for the second name tag to emerge. He picked it up, placed it in front of the patient, and headed back to the door. Instead of following the patient, he walked toward the main entrance. Moving a bit more briskly, he threw open the glass door and felt the cool evening air blowing against his fur. He glanced up into the misty night and had to admit to himself that his memories were just as dark and clouded as the streets before him. A streetlamp flickered now and then, but aside from the light behind him, there was hardly any illumination. He could hear the sound of animals moving past the buildings as he slowly turned away from the exit and headed back to work. He had a patient with dry eyes—something he knew simply from observation. Elaborate scans weren't strictly necessary, yet they were part of the mandatory routine. He walked down the hallway, breaking into a light skip as he neared the end; he grabbed the eye drops and entered the room. His patient was sitting on the exam table next to a small side table, from which he picked up a syringe. After taking a small sample, he moved the patient into the scanner. Intern had to smile; the sound reminded him of the microwave in his tiny apartment, which he used to quickly heat up ready-made meals. His ear twitched when the data processing was complete, and finally, he turned back to administer the eye drops. He rested one paw against the patient's cheek to hold the eye open while using the other to apply the drops. Then, switching paws, he stroked the patient's head. The treatment was finished. With a brisk movement, he pressed the remainder of the medication into the patient's hand, gave him a pat on the shoulder, and walked away. His paws were now accustomed to the porcelain, but he still had to get used to the flickering light. His ears were pricked as a very familiar deer entered the room. The blue shirt with the red tie under the white coat, the trousers, and the orange fur always stood out, even in Intern's deepest, most buried memory. He knew this man, and the twitch of his nose was another telltale sign. His shoes echoed through the corridors as he stopped. "Well? You're already here? Don't tell me you've already taken over the first patients," he interjected with a smirk. "You may be new here, but you're also a bit too eager. Yes, it's the first shift. The rest of the team isn't here either. I wanted to finish the last preparations and fix the cameras and the partition, befor i would have let patients in," he explained, putting down his suitcase. "It wasn't even your shift start, but fine. That's just how it is," he said calmly and glared menacingly at him. "Because it's you, I'll make an exception, but remember one thing. I hate unprepared change." His voice deepened with each word as he tilted his head forward. Intern nodded eagerly and stood bolt upright. All his senses screamed danger as he looked deep into Intern's soul with his black eyes. He just couldn't quite grasp why. Then the light returned to his eyes and he laughed. "Since you're already here, please help me with the cameras. They're important so we can detect the anomalies in time. Then you can leave. I'll make sure you still get paid," he said, more relaxed, as the doctor moved away from the counter. For Intern, this was no problem. He helped where he could, and better than feel that fixed stare on his fur. Why did it seem so familiar? The light flickered, and Intern broke free from his trance and dashed over to the doctor, who was now also his superior. Repairing the cameras should be easy.
