06-Jun-2001
Title: Bath Water: A Professor G Out-take
Author: TB
Archive: yes please in GW Addiction (Why? Because they're the best!)
Category: pre-show time period, or what the comic book followers would call "Episode Zero" days; POV
Pairing: Prof G, 2, Father Maxwell, Sister Helen
Rating: PG
Warnings: language
Spoilers: some
Feedback: feed me, thanks in advance ^_^
Disclaimers: TB no own. TB use anyway. TB pay off lawyer. TB happy. (TB change her disclaimer to add apology to William Carlos Williams, who is probably cringing to realise that his amazing fiction is being translated to Gundam Wing... )
Notes: This story is based on William Carlos Williams' short story, "The Girl With a Pimply Face." Since I can't do it justice, I cringe to even mention it, but anyway, we're going with it.
For those of you who don't know, Wm. Carlos Williams (1883-1963) was an American poet, essayist, and short-story writer. He practised medicine in a blue-collar, ethnically mixed part of New Jersey, where lived (Rutherford). He delivered more than three thousand babies in that area. He won many awards for his ground-breaking poetry, including the Pulitzer, posthumously. Some of you may know him from the Aso much depends/ upon/ a red wheel/ barrow..." poem. This is my personal favourite of his works.
Is it always this hot on L2?
Mostly, I replied. I think it has something to do with funding. Can't pay for upgrades in the equipment.
That's a damn shame, Howard grumped. He's in a mood today. But we're only stopped here for a little while, and he'll live. Hey, do you think we could grab a bite somewhere? I'm starving. I'm too old for this.
Too old to work on my project then, and I mean it. Just because you're tired and cranky doesn't mean I have to listen to that.
All right, all right. Where do you want to go? We haven't passed anything that looked like a rest stop.
Sign says there's a market ahead.
I'll settle for some damn air conditioned bus stop. Hey, look ahead.
I looked ahead, trying to see what he was pointing to. I heard the shouting first. It was a kid, a real shrimp of a kid, running full-tilt out of a store-front with his pockets dropping merchandise behind him.
Stop him! Damn it, someone stop him!
He came running right at us and Howard shot out an arm to nab him. I don't know what got into me, really I don't, but watching that kid run with this big grin on his face I didn't want them to catch him. I pretended to trip into Howard, and when we stumbled that little thief had just enough room to squirm through the crowd, where I'd opened up the space, and he was gone just like that. It even got quiet in his wake. Even the man who'd been robbed just grumbled and went back inside.
What'd you do that for? Howard looked at me keenly.
I shrugged. Aren't you hungry still?
The hotel was really cheap, really old and really smelly but it was enough for a few nights. Howard just needed enough time to go hunting around the scrap yards we'd come here for and then we'd be off. I had classes back home and papers to grade, much as I hated reading them.
It seemed L2 was too familiar with disaster to pass up an opportunity to visit it. We hadn't been there but two nights when the news was flashing all about a fire down in a bad quarter of the colony, as though the rest of the colony wasn't a bad quarter.
Anyone die? asked Howard.
Some, I told him. They say it's under control.
But? You have that look in your eye.
What look?
That look. You're going?
I was thinking about it.
Well, you're nuts. He laid down on one of the two beds and almost immediately fell asleep. The heat was good for his arthritis and thinner blood. He liked it here more than he would ever say, and he didn't really object to my going. If I go. Haven't decided yet.
But the news reports kept coming in. Death toll going higher, no trained medical assistance fast enough. I hadn't practised since I dropped out of med school but I could help. No one on a colony like this one would sue for malpractice.
I was there almost before I knew it. People were stretched out in little clumps all over the place, litter on the ground for as much help as they were getting.
Excuse me. I'm a doctor. Let me through.
The severe burns I couldn't do much for aside from cleaning what wasn't too bad and bandaging the rest, but I ran out of bandages very quickly and started using bits of people's clothing. I had a few drugs that I carried for my own use, asprin and such, and that I gave out more carefully. The people were that old hardy stock you didn't see anywhere but the poor colonies. Quiet, even the young ones. No screaming or wailing, just quiet and waiting to see if I would help them. I felt enormous respect for them.
Smoke inhalation cases I wanted to have breathe through a wet bit of shirt or something but there was no water, practically no water. A woman told me bitterly that the fire would mean water restrictions worse than what they'd endured already. But they endured. That's the kind of people we send to Space, the strong ones.
Can we get these wounded to some shelter? I asked a policeman.
Sure. But keep them away from the hazard zone. He had a burn on his face, and I gave him an asprin for it. You a doctor?
Professor, I told him. I teach.
Well, teach those arsonists to dispose of their trash before they start something like this again.
Sure, I said. Can I get help moving these wounded.
While he radioed I asked some of the colonists standing by their hurt friends and family where we could transfer the wounded to. Mostly they looked at each other and shrugged. Some volunteered to take as many as they could to their homes nearby or their shops. There was a scrap yard close, too, only a street away and though it wasn't really beyond the fire-range I gave the go-ahead to move them. The people of L2 pulled together and got organised. I admired them.
The Federation soldiers showed up much later than I thought they should have. Who the hell is running this show? they shouted, though it was quiet.
A few pointed to me. You? Greybeard, get over here.
Can I help you?
You can't have these people here.
There's no-where else. They're wounded.
What did I just tell you? Move 'em.
Is the fire defeated? I asked politely.
Yeah, those local idiots in the Department finally got it, another said. Listen, Grandfather, this place is a safety hazard. A health hazard, you understand? Gotta get these people home.
It's almost night and they're tired. A lot of them need hospitalisation.
Just move them, okay? What do you want, buses? We can get buses. Trucks.
Trucks would be better. Can we get stretchers and more water?
No more water.
Most of the night went into moving the wounded. Moved them all over the place, sent home too many who needed better care than they'd gotten. There were a few more doctors, real doctors and a couple of nurses, volunteers from the hospital who raced down for the emergency while they were off-duty. We took addresses and city-service numbers and divided them up for house calls, the best we could do. More people died.
All those quiet people limping home are getting to me, I admitted to one of the other doctors, a young woman with pretty red hair.
One day the colony will explode, and that'll be the first decent night's rest any of us lot will have gotten in our lives, she replied.
There's a group of us here at the church. Maybe like a hundred or two hundred.
I got a sinking feeling in my chest. That many? I might bring another doctor.
That'd be good. He hung up. The service line clicked as his image fritzed out.
Howard shook his head and tore the sheets from our beds into strips, just like I'd shown him. Where's the Federation in all this?
Standing around watching. The more people who died, the more Federation soldiers frowned and harassed the tired volunteers taking care of them. Bodies were a safety hazard.
There was talk of ejecting the bodies into Space. The mortuaries were overflowing.
Check and make sure all our asprin is in the bag, Howard.
It's there. Want me to come with you?
No. Go browse that yard up in Pieters Square. I want to leave as soon as we have what we need.
Bus ride to the church was silent.
It was overwhelming, the bodies waiting outside for the trucks with their faces covered by jackets and hats. A little sign says AMaxwell Church." Another sign made of cardboard over that said AClosed To all New casualties." I thought that was a good thing, though there were probably more wounded who could have used the help.
An old Father comes up to me. We can't accept any more, I'm terribly sorry, he tells me.
I'm a doctor, I say. I talked to someone on the service who gave me the address.
The doctor, thank God.
Can you show me where the worst are first? The ones who need immediate attention.
Again, not too much to do for the worst, except ease their pain a little. I had to be careful more than before with the asprin, because I was running low. Some were so far gone I didn't give them anything.
Pulse is erratic and the pupils are dilated, I said, fever set in and you can see here how the burn is getting this yellow pus in it. Just lie back and sleep as much as you can.
Will it scar?
Aren't you going to do more?
How come you're the only doctor?
Hours go by and without water, without water, there's very little to do. I send home as many as I can, who sometimes know help isn't coming and sometimes believe my lie and think they'll get better, if they don't die before morning. I'm appalled by the cruelty of the place. It was just a trash fire that got out of hand.
Most of all they're quiet. The only loud ones are the occasional Federation man, who pokes his head in to grouse about safety hazards. I think about shooting one, strangling one, just make them feel a little something for all the hurt and stoic people who look at them with hatred in their tired eyes.
Last room, mister.
I know you, I say surprised. The little market thief.
If I'd known about the fire I'd have stolen other stuff I guess. No apologies from this one. It's a boy, a real shrimp, the hair a braid like a girl's and the eyes too big for his face. He had scabs all over his hands which didn't look like a little boy's hands, not chubby at all, and the scabs went up his arms and down his legs. You fall down a lot? I asked.
Sure, and the Feddies help me sometimes too. Suddenly he's grinning, and there's something about that grin that I fall for immediately. No apologies from this one, but no bullshit either. He was a small vigorous little guy and I was glad I'd seen him again.
Are you hurt?
Nah. I wasn't near the fire. Need me to hold that for you?
He held my bag, though it was mostly empty now after a day in the church and followed me around while I walked through the last room. Mostly these people were better off, not too bad at all actually, and I just looked at their burns and told them to be careful with them and not to stretch the healing skin too much. Go on home, I said.
Can't. Fire got it.
They're staying here for a while, the boy told me. Father Maxwell said they could and the Feddies won't come in here like they will other places.
Why is that?
'Cause if they fucked with Father Maxwell, everyone else would fuck with them.
How can they? No one's armed. There I was discussing a mass uprising against a dominant military force, but I knew he would do it. Real serious kid, a straight-shooter. He had that grin on and I liked it. He was all tough meat.
If the church isn't safe then no one's safe. I could steal a mobile suit. I could fly it right into the middle of 'em and they'd never know what hit 'em.
You'd have to kill them.
That'd be a bonus, then.
The old Father found me again, and he offered me a meal out of the way of most of the people, up in the wings behind the organ. It was good food. I ate hardily. A nun took my plates and the kid gave me a beer.
What's your name?
Duo.
That's a funny name.
So? What's yours?
Just call me Professor.
Professor. Hey, Professor, can you do anything about this? He pulled his shirt off over his head and presented his back to me. There were big lumpy knots moving away from his spine at a perpendicular, almost covered over by streaks of dirt and grime. I felt them carefully but he didn't make any noise.
How'd you get that?
I fell I think. It was a while ago. I just noticed it.
Got any clue at all? The lumps were hard as little pebbles in his back but they didn't seem to be causing him any pain, except when I pressed down on them. There was a sticky patch on his skin, but probably it was just sweat. It was awfully hot in the organ loft.
Sister Helen thinks maybe it's an infection.
Did you see a doctor?
There's a nurse up at the school but I don't like her.
Why not? I had him breathe for me while I pressed my ear up against his back. Bellows for lungs, real healthy and strong.
He put his shirt on again. Usually when I go in it's 'cause I hit someone. She thinks I'm a trouble maker and anyway, it would go on my record and I don't want anyone thinking that I'm a baby and I have to go the clinic all the time to get my boo-boos kissed.
Did she see the lumps?
No.
They might be an infection, I tell him, though I don't think they are. Or bug bites. I can give you the names of some medicines. Go in and see the nurse and ask her if she can get you a prescription for them.
Aw, I don't care that much. Forget it.
Does your school have insurance? You wouldn't have to pay for the medicines, if that's what you're worried about.
They're Federation, he said, and his face got shut-off looking. Closed up tight as a clam. Thanks for looking but forget it. It doesn't get in my way.
Just remember these names. Can you do that? Bacitracin Zinc and Acetaminophen. Need me to write it down?
No. Bacitracin zinc and assetB asesB acet-ah-min-o-fen. I'll remember.
Okay. And try this too. I handed him a bottle from my pocket, that I'd been using all day in place of real sanitary conditionsB a bottle of hand sanitiser, still pretty full, that didn't require water. Rub it all over your back. It should help with your scabs, too. If it helps you any with your problem, promise me you'll go see the nurse.
He looked at it for a minute before he took it. Then he looked up at me. You're not too bad.
Thanks, I said.
The manager found out about the sheets.
I'd forgotten. We'll pay him back, I told Howard, and laid down on the plain mattress hardly caring.
You look exhausted.
I am exhausted. But you know, it was worth it. Did you find anything?
Not yet. Some promising leads, though. Folk have been really helpful here. I could get to like this place.
Me too.
You going to go back tomorrow? You should find out if any of these people can pay you. We have to get off this colony, you know.
Just a few places, maybe. There's a homeless shelter with a few cases I should look at, and a church I want to keep tabs on. You remember the kid from the market?
What kid?
The kid who ran by with all that stolen food.
Can't say I do, he yawned, and nodded off on his pillow.
Maxwell Church? Good place, that. You hear good things about that place.
It seems really nice. You have a beautiful home. Is that painting original?
Sure is. Signed, too, see right there, Kirkland. Anyway that Father of theirs served on the Council for a while. Kind of conservative, but you expect that out of a Catholic. He resigned when the Federation put their puppet in as Mayor.
I'm sorry to hear that.
My patient wriggled and bit her lip as I cleaned the pus out of the burn on her thigh with a cotton swab. And that woman he has there, who takes care of the business end, Sister Helen. She's a canny one. She does a lot of work around at the shelters and up at the schools, trying to get us mothers to help out at local charity functions.
She sounds like a good woman.
She is. Her and Father Maxwell, as good as they come. But did you see that brat that keeps loitering around in the church?
What brat?
A little shit if there ever was one. With the scabs all up his arms? Not even Father Maxwell can campaign that one into wholesomeness. He's a little thief, he stole from my husband, God rest him, and he ran a gang of little shits just like him until the Federation stepped in and stopped his hustling. Only decent job the Feds ever did, cleaning him off the street. Only now he's twice as bad, because Father Maxwell, bless him, won't discipline him.
I felt uneasy. He seemed like a smart kid.
Oh, he's smart all right. Just ask the police, who can't nab him despite a hundred eye-witness accounts of his tricks. Father Maxwell won't let them, that boy has the poor man wrapped around his dirty little finger. Father Maxwell doesn't even make him go to school anymore. If the damn brat lives he'll just be an illiterate asshole still ripping decent people off.
Maybe. Don't walk on the leg for a while. You'll be fine.
I wish I could pay you for your help, but I have bills, electric, and now with the fire and my husband, God rest him, he's not around to run the shop anymore, all I have extra goes into the shop and the fire probably took my stock, but I wish I could pay you. You've been such a help.
It's all right.
No, I wish I could pay you. But I barely make enough to pay rent and my parents are coming to live with me in the spring, I have to save up for that. You understand?
Sure. Have a good day.
The last day I went to Maxwell Church there were only fifty or so homeless stuck there in the wake of the fire. Father Maxwell reported that reconstruction was already underway in areas the Federation had deemed safe zones, but that of course the church was always open to anyone in need.
Thank you so much for helping us all, he said. God bless you for your kindness. I don't know what we would have done.
You would have thought of something. People usually do. Say, is that your boy? Duo, right?
That's him.
Did he see the nurse at his school?
As a matter of fact he did. That was something of a surprise... he usually avoids her. He came back with a prescription for some medication. For these lumps on his back. The nurse thinks they might be an allergic reaction to something.
That's good. Good he got that seen.
Hey, Professor. The little guy came right up to me, grinning that grin that made me smile too, giving me a cocky eye. Want to say thank you.
Father Maxwell said you went to the nurse after all.
Yeah. He shrugged indifferently. She got me those creams, just the ones you told me, the bacitracin zinc and acetaminophen.
You did remember the names.
Told you I would.
Your arms look better.
My legs, too. See?
Well, look at that.
The End
(:./erin/bath)
