Your eyes can see, but mine don’t work, yet I see what you can’t. What am I?And tried another. After a few hours, my head ached. I abandoned my task and rested. Hour thirty meant Riley had returned to work and it would be a while before my next meal. My empathy for Domotor increased with every passinghour. Those first seventy hours in his hideout had been rough. At least he had a washroom and kitchen. I calculated how long he could survive on the food stocked in his refrigerator. His continued freedom still amazed me.
I tried to sleep, but my empty stomach complained and Doctor Lamont’s offer of using her shower tempted. The floor plans of the four levels of Inside matched for the most part. Quad C4 was dedicated to the power plant, and Sectors D4, E4 and F4 contained living areas. The biggest difference between level four and one was the water tanks.
Sectors B4 and H4 housed large water storage tanks, while on level one those sectors held the laundry and the water treatment plant, which treated both solid-waste and waste-water. The infirmary for the scrubs was in Sector H2 along with the care facility.
I had limited my excursions to the upper levels to avoid being detected, but I remembered seeing the uppers’ infirmary on level three Sector B. To gain access through the air shafts, I would need to climb into the Gap. My tender hip would be a problem.
I still wore the upper’s student jumpsuit. Could I stroll through the upper levels as if I belonged there? More importantly, would I? Anne-Jade had worn Jacy’s listening device in plain sight. Zippy appeared to be a regular cleaning troll. Even the decoder had an ordinary disguise as a timer.
Was a shower worth getting caught? No. But it was worth testing if I could travel through the upper levels without being recognized. A thin rationalization. And the Pop Cops wouldn’t think to look for me up here. Right? Decision made, I searched for a good spot to leave Riley a note, hoping he wouldn’t be too upset.
Before leaving the storeroom, I combed my hair with my fingers and let it hang down past my shoulders to cover the earring. I used the water in my glass to wash my face and rinsedthe dried blood from my hands. A tool belt around my waist would appear odd to the uppers. Funny how I felt improperly dressed without its comforting weight, but all I had left was the decoder. It fit into a long pocket in the uniform’s pants. Once I tucked the wipe board of password questions inside the top of my jumpsuit, I was, at least physically, ready to go.
I mapped the shortest route from the storeroom to the infirmary in my mind, drew in a steadying breath and left the room. After a quick peek around the optical illusion of the hallway to check for people, I strode with purpose as if I had an important message to deliver.
A few uppers met my gaze and nodded, others ignored me and the three Pop Cops I passed didn’t show any signs they recognized me. With my heart somersaulting in my chest, I arrived at the infirmary. The possibility that Doctor Lamont wouldn’t be there didn’t occur to me until I pushed open the door. The rectangular room duplicated the scrub’s infirmary, containing a row of beds against each long wall, with a narrow path between them. But the privacy curtains hanging from a U-shaped metal track on the ceiling above the beds wasn’t included in the scrubs’ room. Two beds were occupied with sleeping patients. A high counter arched from the back right wall next to a wide entrance.
When I was halfway across the room, Doctor Lamont bustled from the entry, carrying a tray. A slight hitch in her step indicated her surprise, but she smiled.
She gestured toward the back room. “I’ll be there in a minute. I need to give Izak his meds.”
I aimed for the door. Shelves filled with medical supplies hid behind the high counter on the right. Through the entrance was an examination room. Stainless steel instruments glinted in the harsh light. I balked at the threshold. The flat table covered witha black pad, straps and stirrups reminded me of my first medical examination.
Scrubs were required to have a complete physical at fourteen centiweeks. No part of my body had been left unexamined. I shivered at the memory of the cold probes. The Pop Cops claimed the exam ensured the scrub’s heath and ability to perform the job they had been assigned.
I jumped when Doctor Lamont placed her cold hand on my back, guiding me into the room.
“The surgery is over there.” She pointed to a wide door on the right. “And my office is back here.”
We entered a small alcove in the back left corner, which opened into her workplace. A far friendlier place than the last. My gaze was drawn to the oversized quilt hanging on the wall. Small squares of color had been sewn together in a pattern. I squinted and stepped back, trying to discern it.
She noticed my gaze. “It’s a stethoscope.”
The shape of the long tubes and round bottom became clear.
“You’re wondering why a stethoscope.” Her thin eyebrows arched as if inviting me to speculate.
“No. It’s one of the tools of your trade.”
“But why not a thermometer or a scope or a scalpel?”
“It’s your quilt. I think you would know the answer better than me.”
She laughed. “Yes, but I want your opinion.”
I hid my surprise by focusing on the quilt. All the doctor’s instruments were important. Each played a role. A stethoscope listened to a patient’s heart and lungs. I imagined working as a doctor as patient after patient came through the doors. After a while, I though doctors would view their work as just another job. How would a doctor I make a connection with so many different people?
“You picked the stethoscope because hearing a person’s heart beating is a…” I moved my hands as if I could pull the right word from my throat. “Treasured part of being a doctor. No one else can hear it unless they’re really close to the person. By letting you listen to their heart, they’re trusting you.”
She nodded her head as if impressed by my answer.
“Am I right?” I asked.
“There is no right or wrong answer. You could have said it was my favorite instrument, which is also true. One thing I like to do with my stethoscope is listen to Inside’s heartbeat.” Doctor Lamont pulled it from her neck and handed it to me. “Go ahead. Press it to the wall.”
Curious, I placed the ends in my ears. My left lobe throbbed when the instrument brushed the earring. Touching the wall with the round sensor, I braced for an amplified Hum. Instead, a distinct rumble sounded, alternating from louder to softer. A series of knocks also repeated in a steady beat. I returned the device.
“Interesting isn’t it? Our ears can’t discern all those mechanical noises. To us it’s just the Hum. Unnoticed until we make an effort to hear it. I enjoy listening to the different components of Inside’s heart beat. It comforts me.” She swept her hand out in a dismissing wave. “Silly, I know.”
