Risky Surgery
“The prognosis is dire,” said The Doctor. “You have cancer.” The words hit Aretha like a ton of bricks. “Oh no,” she whispered. “Please, no…no, not again…” Tears welled up in her eyes and overflowed, spilling down over her pretty round cheeks like tiny rivers that had broken from their banks. Her jaw began to quiver uncontrollably, and the tremors spread from there. Soon her entire body was shaking uncontrollably. “But the treatment…you said—you said...” She sobbed, “You said we were going to beat this thing. You said everything was going to be ok!” “Aretha,” said The Doctor, “Aretha, please listen. Try to understand...no procedure is one hundred percent effective. What works for one person, or even for most people, may not work for another. We do have other options…but I won’t mislead you, Aretha; the cancer is in a highly advanced stage. At this point, there are no easy answers, and the typical procedures have failed to fully remove the cancer.” Gasping for air, Aretha struggled to compose herself enough to speak. “So what are you saying, Doctor?” She finally asked, “I should just give up and die? Is that what you think? I should just…die like this?” Tears flooded over her face once again. “Look at me,” she said as she began sobbing again. “I’m wasting away to nothing! My h-h-hair all fell out after the last…the last…” She was crying hard now, struggling for enough air to finish her sentence. “...Treatment! It never grew back!” Aretha finally cried out. “Well technically, Aretha, it has grown back, and it is still growing fairly strongly, it’s a good sign,” The Doctor replied. “You call this strongly?” Aretha yelled. She reached up and pulled the wig off of her head, slamming it down on the floor, her sadness turning momentarily to anger. “You call this good? My head looks like a slash-and-burn project! Huge patches of it are gone, I’m fucking clear-cut! Here, here, here, over here, and here, and…can't you see this? It’s terrible!” Aretha yelled, pointing to numerous bald patches among the close-cropped hair on her head. “It started to grow back, and then it just started falling out again! This isn’t what I signed up for, this isn’t what we talked about,” she wailed. “Yes, I understand your concerns,” The Doctor said evenly and with great care. “And they are well founded. I also understand that this is a very difficult time for you, but please...try to calm down. You knew ahead of time that the cellular hydro-necrosis process that we attempted would cause you to lose almost all of your hair. In cancers as aggressive and globally affecting as yours was, we have no choice but to inundate the entire body in the hope that we can flush out all the cancerous cells. Unfortunately, if even a small amount remains, the cancer can begin to repopulate, which is exactly what has happened in your case. What’s even more unfortunate is that it took so long for your symptoms to return, the loss of hair on the scalp and the loss of fluid from the joints being perhaps the most obvious. I see here,” The Doctor said, pointing at a clipboard with a pen, “that one of your main complaints is constant joint pain. Is that right?” “Yes,” Aretha sniffed, “that never happened before. What is it, another side effect from my 'treatment’?” She said the last word somewhat sarcastically. “No,” The Doctor replied. “The lubricating fluid, literally the ‘oil’ that allows your joints to move without your bones rubbing against each other, has lowered drastically since your last visit. To some extent, this can be expected after your last procedure. It’s a normal reaction, and over time a nearly full recovery can be expected. However, none of us anticipated your cancer would return as quickly and aggressively as it has. And in a relatively short time, it has infiltrated much more deeply into your body. I’m sorry to say, the cancer has actually begun consuming this lubricating oil at an alarming rate. That’s what is causing your arthritic symptoms: not the treatment, but the spread of the cancer itself, moving deeper into your body and extracting its vital resources.” "Oh my God," Aretha said, dumbfounded. "Then I'm going to die, right? That's what you're telling me, isn't it? You brought me here to tell me I'm going to die!" "Not exactly," said The Doctor. "Although under normal circumstances you might be correct...in your case, things are somewhat different.” "Different how? What are you talking about?" Aretha demanded, cheeks still wet with tears. "I will explain," said The Doctor. "As we know, a small, young planetary body such as yours in the 'Sol-A' star system was never intended to become host to the voracious species of life known as 'man'. However, once mankind became present in your body, its colonies grew rapidly and began to consume and destroy your organic structure. Of course, ideally a species such as man will travel from planetary body to body, taking a certain amount of organic material and depositing some in exchange. However, if trapped on a single planetary body for too long mankind will consume every useful organic compound until technological escape velocity is no longer possible for the species, and at that point the planetary body begins to decay rapidly. Billions of years of biological diversity can wiped out in an instant. It was for this reason we decided to attempt to drown each human. Although we were able to cover nearly the entire surface of your body with water, mankind apparently survived in trace amounts. Enough to repopulate, but long after the majority of easily-attainable raw materials for technological advance had been consumed. Apparently, it had become a worst-case scenario." "I know, I know," sobbed Aretha, "So what's different now?" "Simply this:" explained The Doctor, "it seems that the population of mankind left alone on your body have developed...unique abilities of awareness. It is an interesting phenomenon, to say the least. Mankind, a physically weak species in the galaxy that is highly dependent on advanced technology and complex social structures, is abandoned, naked and alone, on a galactic rim planet such as yourself. They were not expected to survive at first. Beyond their own considerable capacity for self-destruction, it must be noted that we have also been attempting to exterminate this specimen of man." "To save my life!" cried Aretha. "I'm not supposed to have a destructive cancer like humanity chewing up my body like this! And it's already too late! Whole branches of my life diversity are destroyed and they can never be put back, not ever! My chance at a normal life is ruined and I'll never have children to love, only this disease that eats my body away!" Aretha was sobbing again. A cold, sick feeling of despair gripped her heart. "Perhaps," mused The Doctor. "Or perhaps not. You see, some humans on your body have begun to...spontaneously mutate into their mature form, though almost completely divorced of the experiences which usually precede such a transformation. For instance, there are races of man several hundreds of thousands of years into continuous social development who have only just begun to make this transformation in other parts of this galaxy. These human races are beginning to use methods of energetic technology inherent, although latent, within their genetic encoding. They are transcending the need to consume planetary bodies en masse to survive and joining the ranks of intelligent fungi, their higher companion-species. They are beginning to freely create with light in the cosmic womb, as you do. However, there is no precedent for this type of human behavior anywhere on record in any galaxy that I am aware of.." The Doctor continued. "It appears, then, that you may get your wish after all. If they are able to make a phase-transformation then the group-consciousness of your particular species of mankind will bring all of the individual specimens along for the ride. And if that happens, your starving humans may do something unique amongst the galaxies: they may conquer the interstellar divide with pure awareness, and do it with no guidance whatsoever–in essence it a miracle birth in the place of assured demise. If it wasn't beyond my ability to know for sure, I'd guarantee that "someone" pulled some strings on your behalf. For whatever reason, the impossible has become...possible." The Doctor did not seem used to being unable to provide further detail. Aretha was stunned. "After all of this," she said, pointing to her balding scalp, "you're telling me that I'm going to live, that things are just going to be fine? That this colony of humanity is going to somehow just mutate and leave my body without killing me?" "Oh, no," corrected The Doctor. "That is still...well, I'll say it’s 'highly unlikely'." Aretha frowned. "However,” continued The Doctor, “ I will tell you this: what seemed impossible upon my last visit now seems possible. If anything, that should give you hope" |
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