Finish the Fiction Story Contest - Week #31 - @bananafish

What goes around, comes around
by @f3nix

Barnard Hall, in the heart of the west wing of the medical school, the Asclepius sancta sanctorum. The light of the sunset dripped from the dusty double-glazed windows and mixed with the cedar scent of the wooden stalls, arranged in steep theatre. A visitor who had passed the heavy double door would have undoubtedly caught the note of animal musk mixing with the wood essence. Smell of anxiety. Smell of hunted prey. Smell of university student exhausted during a long, endless session of exams.

"I strongly advise you to think carefully about your next words," Prof. Angelus said to the student.

Spread over several rows, set in the narrow space between the back and the table top, the remaining students were crossed by the icy scalpel blade of that voice.

"Here we are," Luke thought in a flash of conscious resignation.

It was the sixth time he had to repeat that exam: after five fails in a row his whole life have been interrupted and swallowed up in that black hole. By now he knew every detail of "At Heart of Cardiology", the three volumes treatise written by Prof. Angelus, a widely recognised eminence of cardiology.

For an eternal moment his thoughts dissociated from the scene and flew to that day three years earlier when, at the head of a handful of fifteen other students, Luke had decided to protest the decisions of the seventy-year-old professor.

"Do you mind if I ask you.. do you really intend to graduate in this university?" A stunned secretary had told him at some point, after the insistent protests of the student committee showed no sign of blurring.

And at what levels could the power of an old ordinary professor, close to retirement, ever come? The answer did not wait and, just two months later, Prof. Angelus was acclaimed by the unanimous council as dean of the faculty. Luke was instantly fire-branded and he would never graduate from that university.

"Well?" The assistant, the professor's guard dog, broke the silence.

"The... the... commissurotomy can only be performed if the flaps are not calcified and the subvalvular apparatus is preserved. With a left anterior thoracotomy, the chest is accessed through the resection space of rib 5. Once the pericardium is opened through the left auricle, a diverter is introduced into the mitral ostium which, opening, forces the valvular flaps to separate the merged commissures." Luke answered almost without breathing, tense like a Vietcong in his tunnel paved of sleepless study nights.

The professor's nose had disgusting bright red veins, Luke did not know if he was breathing - or alive at all. He looked down at the white, protruding knuckles of his left hand, clinging to the arm of his chair, and waited for his fate.

"Twenty-six, do you accept?". A note of irony in that electric scalpel voice.

"Yes. Sorry, I'll take the transcripts." Luke stumbled into his bag, looking through the notebooks for the grade transcripts. He had not even brought the booklet with him since there was so little hope of passing the exam.

The professor absent-mindedly drew a twenty-four and a signature in cuneiform spelling.

333

The cold light of the Pentaled surgical light-head outlined the instruments neatly aligned as efficient soldiers ready to execute his orders. It was almost pleasant to the watchful eyes of Dr. Luke Richards, a promising cardio-surgeon and head of the famous Royal Brompton Hospital in Chelsea, London.

"Doctor, we have verified that a serious heart attack is going on. The frequency is 207 bpm. We administered 50 mg of protamine sulfate, the patient did not react. Furthermore, his wife informed us of a complication deriving from senile cardiac amyloidosis."

"A very normal case that could be safely entrusted to the Mako-bot" Dr. Richards determined instantly by glancing quickly at the operating table, automated and managed by the hospital central A.I.

He snorted slightly. Evidently the patient had enough influence not only to obtain a human operation, but also to have the Chief Cardiac Surgeon out of bed at three o'clock in the night.

"Who do we have here, doctor?"

"This is a certain Prof. Daniel Angelus".

My Entry:

Dr. Luke Richards lit a cigarette and said, “well, let’s rip him open and take a look at what makes him tick.”

The A.I. went right to work making an incision along Prof. Daniel Angelus’ chest. The old man resembled a pale corpse with only his bright red nose veins displaying vitality as sickening as ever.

Luke’s scars ran deep because of his dismissal from medical school. He thought about his years of homelessness roaming the streets in Vienna before he found a peg legged lady named Sadie who taught him the art of forgery.

He then created the necessary medical school documentation so he could return to London, and his family.

His father, Lord Hampton Richards, Ph. D, had been appointed Director at the Royal Academy of Medicine. He instantly offered Luke a job upon their reunion.

He’d known enough to get by for a while. Advancements in A.I. had made things easier for Luke and proved him right in his argument with the professor that had ended his real medical training.

The man responsible for his departure from medical school now depended upon him to save his life.

“Leave us.” Luke said to the nurses in the room as he took another puff of his cigarette.

Alone, he walked around Prof. Angelus on the surgery table. The A.I. completed the dissection lifting one last layer of flesh to reveal the laboring rust colored heart of the aging Prof. Angelus.

Luke took a drag from his cigarette thinking he could use the professor’s heart as an ashtray. He continued to examine the specimen with his hawk eyes and noticed odd formations where he could crush the butt of his cigarette.

“A.I., what are these bumps along the cardiac infusion?”

“Dr. Richards, there are no known prior medical cases involving these types of bumps along the cardiac infusion.” Responded the A.I..

“I see. Well, give me a knife! I shall examine them for myself.”

Luke, with scalpel in hand, bent over the beating heart of Prof. Angelus. He raised his eyebrows in a wild manic expression with ash building on the end of the cigarette and a cloud of smoke illuminated in the light above the operating table.

He made the cut, and a sort of puss oozed out of the acorn shaped protrusion along the cardiac infusion. Luke jumped back in fright as the legs of a spider became visible. The hairy coin sized spider crawled out from the hole he’d made with the knife, all the while the thumping - beating - of the aging heart.

“Good God!” Luke exclaimed, letting the remains of the cigarette drop to the white tile floor. He’d never seen something so disagreeable in his life.

Luke turned, and marched out of the surgery room. In the hallway, he announced to the waiting nurses, “see to it that man receives the best medical attention . . . I’m announcing my retirement!”

Thank you,
Cyrus Emerson

Red Roses the audiobook for your consideration at the Voice Arts Awards (NYC), and the Grammys (LA).
https://www.audible.com/pd/Fiction/Red-Roses-Audiobook/B07F2LWHPN

Red Roses narrated by Kira Omans
www.kiraomans.com

Red Roses music by Rike Luxx
www.rikeluxxbeats.com

Red Roses sound by Pond5
www.pond5.com

Also, available from The Author:

Fear and Loathing in the State of Jefferson - ebook
https://read.amazon.com/kp/embed?asin=B079R5KLPN&preview=newtab&linkCode=kpe&ref_=cm_sw_r_kb_dp_GsURAbAVDYNEM

Lost Angel – Introduction with Ray Manzarek of The Doors
https://www.downpour.com/lost-angel?sp=249812