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Strange New Feet
Chapter 1
Points
of light jiggle furiously, winking in and out of existence, twinkling
like some mad, colorful acid trip. Safia pulls back a little, using her
consciousness like a fine, focusing knob. Patterns emerge, knots of 3-D
hexagons and pentagons reflecting electric blues, crystalline yellows.
She pulls back more, opening up to a wider, softer landscape of strange
fuzzy shapes moving in random jerking motions amid liquid currents. One
more adjustment. Ah, there it is. She moves around it, examines its
borders, folds it into her mind to process the new data.
Safia’s eyes open slowly, gold specks glitter with fresh knowledge and
sadness. She lifts her hand from the sedated patient’s stomach, briefly
registering the chill of the hospital room against her heated palm.
“Stay strong,” she whispers, moving her gaze to the still face: a
42-year-old ghost in a cold, white room.
Dr. Ackers studies her expression as she emerges from room 617; his body
leans heavily into the wall as if he’s been waiting there for the entire
hour.
“She’s not responding to the paclitaxel or radiation, is she?”
“No,” she answers, slipping her hands deep into the stiff pockets of her
lab coat. “The tumor is growing.”
“Surgery it is then,” he nods.
Safia returns his nod, knowing the proximity to major blood vessels
shoots her odds of survival to hell. She moves down the green and white
checkered hall, feeling drained and not quite in the present moment.
“Miss Raine,” Dr. Ackers has moved to walk beside her, his voice seems
unnaturally hesitant. “I have another patient I’d like you to…help us
with.”
Safia smiles wearily, the corners of her mouth like punctuation
marks ending at her sharply angled cheekbones. She has been working
at Pineville Medical Center for six years and, though most of the
physicians she works with have come to trust her accuracy even above
the Pattern Mining software, they still can not bring themselves to
talk about what she does. It has become an unspoken rule, and one
that serves her well because she knows she can’t explain it anyway.
She turns to Dr. Ackers as they step into the glass elevator.
“Which floor?”
“West Tower.”
Safia glances up sharply, “children’s wing?”
“Yes.”
Her shoulders stiffen. The children break her heart.
She stares out at the panes of smoked glass buildings beyond the
manicured gardens they are descending upon. The elevator stops on
air, opens and they step out into the muggy afternoon heat. As they
make their way down the sandstone path, thunder rumbles in the
distance.
“Looks like we’re in for another storm today.”
Safia nods, the doctor’s comment not really registering. She pulls a
clip out of her pocket, twists her dark hair into a knot and secures
it firmly, leaving thick bangs framing her face. Drops of sweat roll
down her neck and under her collar. She is still feeling drained and
the heat isn’t helping.
“Male or female?”
“Female…fourteen years old,” Dr. Ackers answers, a touch of
weariness in his tone. “She was brought in because her mother’s
live-in boyfriend tried to kill her. Smother her.”
Safia’s breath catches in her throat and she shoots a horrified
glance at the doctor. She isn’t sure she has the strength for this.
“But why? What happened?”