The Hotel Room
#5 of Other Stories
(Meta note: Well, this story could be social suicide, but I am hoping that my socially liberal readers will go with it. All I can say is that this is a very political subject, and I will not get into an argument about it, no matter what comments are left. If you don't like the tags, then don't read it.
This story is about as close to "present reality" as I will get, and is not in my universe. And yes, it is based on actual science, as usual.)
The Hotel Room
Dr. Herman and Mr. Barnes, dressed in opposite white and black coats, did not let the bell hop take their suitcases, as the arrived at the 'ton Hotel. It used to be quite high class, and tried to still be; but everyone knew that the service and price had fallen with the first 4 letters of the Trafton name. That was why they chose this one.
They walked up to the desk together, hand in hand, and checked in. The clerk seemed a little hesitant to give them a shared room key, but didn't say anything. It was on the third floor, as he had reserved, so that they wouldn't be disturbed in a town which did not approve of their business.
They went up to the third floor together, enduring the looks and glares, before arriving at their door near the end of the hall. It was 6:30, and still light out, yet the hall's dark walls, dim lights, and royal red carpeting made it feel like 10 PM. And sleepy was something that neither of them were.
The moment they got to their room, and closed the door, Dr. Herman gave the hand of Mr. Barnes back to him like a surgical instrument he was finished with.
"Did she pay the money?" he asked.
"She bought the dummy item as directed," stated the hyena flatly, "on her parents' credit card."
"Good," smiled the cheetah, as he got his medical bag out of his suitcase, "very good. So, we didn't waste two days."
After Mr. Barnes got out the two special equipment kits from his own suitcase, they walked three doors down. Herman carried his medical bag, and Barnes carried the rest. carrying a smaller case hidden inside his suitcase. They went to the opposite end of the hall, near the elevators, and Barnes knocked at the third door -- three times, then a pause, then twice.
The door slowly opened, still on its chain, and a terrified teenage rabbit peeked though it.
"Anetta? I'm Doctor James Herman," the cheetah offered, standing so his white lab coat would be visible through the crack. "May I come in?"
The door closed, for the chain to unlock, and then opened. "This," he added, gesturing to the tall hyena in black, "is Mr. Barnes, my associate. He's just going to make sure no one bothers us."
Barnes bowed, but said nothing. And it was clear from her nervousness that Anetta didn't like Mr. Barnes at all.
Just by looking, Dr. Herman about 3 months pregnant. Never the less, she somehow had found the energy to throw a small suitcase of clothes all over the room, and throw all of her bed sheets in a pile in the corner. Herman said nothing about it; after all, only someone very upset would pay for his illegal procedure.
Barnes stayed at the door, and Dr. Herman walked her gently over to the bare bed, and had her lay down on it, offering her a pillow.
"You must be scared," he suggested.
She grabbed his hand, and squeezed it incredibly hard. "Very," she said hoarsely, the words seeming to emphasize the tear stains around her eyes.
"I know. This is scary. I won't deny that," he said softly, "and that's why I'm here. I go around the country, helping those like you make scary, life-and-death decisions. That is what doctors are for, after all."
"A-a-and," she stammered, tears threatening to make their return, "m-m-murder."
"Not murder," he whispered, sitting down beside her, at a respectful distance. "This is not murder. This is surgery. It is your flesh, and your blood, and your proteins. Even if there is different DNA inside you, it is still made of your cells. Your body is making skin, and bones, and muscles, and neurons, even if they will eventually be owned by someone else. No matter what anyone says."
She gulped, and a tear or two escaped when she blinked, but she nodded.
"I have a medical degree for a reason," he emphasized, as he gently sat her up, and got rubbing alcohol from his bag to wash his hands, "I know quite a bit how all of that works. And I can tell you, with 100% certainty, that the only living thing I'm sitting next to is you, Anetta. You have all the troubles, consequences, and decisions."
"But they said that it can feel pain," she protested, just before he got out a tongue depressor.
"Open wide," was his kind response. She complied, and that shut her up.
"When you are under general anesthesia, you can also feel pain," he explained, getting a steel flashlight out of his medical bag to help him see. "In fact, the muscles will twitch sometimes. But your brain does not receive the message. You are never aware of it. Now say 'ah'.... good....
He looked around, to find nothing wrong, before concluding, "The fetus inside of you is not be aware of anything. How long ago did you get pregnant?" he asked kindly as he shined the flashlight in her eyes one at a time, gently pulling on her lids.
"4 months."
"Then I can tell you that its brain cells haven't even held a meeting yet!" he emphasized with a gentle smile. "They can't think anymore than a slice of a brain in a dish can think. Do you understand what I mean?"
"I -- think so," she hesitated.
"I bet they scared you about the heartbeat, too."
Her brows raised, which was the only answer he needed.
"I can say, for certain, they have never asked a doctor about that. I have a jar in my office, where a good friend of mine created heart cells in the lab. They are just a clump about the size of a dime. And if you give them a little blood, and an electric charge, they beat. All on their own."
"Really?" she asked.
He smiled. "Really. The body is a remarkable thing, Anetta. Think about all the creatures who don't have brains even half our size that breathe, and eat, and sleep. Their bodies, don't need much of a brain at all. Bodies are just machines."
At this point, he paused his narrative to close the room curtains. Mr. Barnes, without a word, went into the bathroom and closed the door.
"Now, please take off your sweatshirt," Dr. Herman directed.
Annetta seemed to relax a little once the hyena was gone. She slid it quickly over her head, along with her undershirt, leaving only a small bra.
"I'll need that off too, please," he directed, even more gently.
She took the bra off, with a small tremble in her wrist.
"All I need to do," he explained, as he got out his stethoscope, "is listen a little."
Two minutes later, he had determined that her stomach was empty, her heart was a little fast but normal, and she has no chest congestion. Because of her nerves at being examined, he also made sure only to press for abnormalities below her chest, and listened to the fetus for only long enough to hear that it was getting blood.
Before he even directed her to, she got her shirt and sweatshirt back on.
When she finished, Herman said, "See?" quite a bit louder than his previous voice. "That wasn't so bad," he emphasized, looking at the bathroom door. Sure enough, Mr. Barnes came back out of the bathroom, and resumed his guard at the Hotel door.
"Now, Anetta, I know you have thought about this a lot," he began. "Because not very many are brave enough to do what you have done to get here, and talk to me. You have the courage to see that every law your Fine State has passed about doctors, and hospitals, and waiting periods, and mandatory information, and all the rest, is wrong. But, I still want ask you once. Why are you getting this abortion?"
She laid back down, and took a shaky breath.
"There's no need to worry. Everyone I see has a very good reason. I won't argue. Just tell me, I'll listen."
It took her a moment to start. "My -- my boyfriend ... I was in love with him. We've known each other almost 6 months now. And I thought he was nice, but ... he tricked me. My father thinks it's my fault! But it was an accident and -- and -- and --"
Doctor Herman just got a box of tissues from the top of the TV, where it had been thrown, and gave it to her.
"And my father, he said he would kill me if I see him again!" she cried, "and I know he will! You see the look in his eyes! See where he keeps that gun! I know he would! I know he would! Please make it end! Please! ..."
Doctor Herman offered his hands again, and she grabbed him like the edge of a 50 foot cliff, digging into the sleeve of his white coat, as she sobbed. He let her hang on until she could take the box of tissues.
"I think you have an absolutely, perfectly, completely, undeniably justified reason," he whispered firmly, his own eyes dampening a little. "And I want you to know that you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. Do you understand me? Absolutely nothing."
She cried a little more quietly, but nodded.
He let her get all of her tears out, petting the back of her head gently, for a couple of minutes. He needed her full attention for the next part, and when she looked up at him again, he began to explain it.
"Now...let me tell you what happens. This is the plan, okay? I'm going to do what is called a radiometric abortion. All that means is, we have this here ..."
He reached into the suitcase and pulled out a heavy belt with one inch metal squares stitched half way around.
"... this belt goes around your belly. These are magnets. And this --"
He pulled out a pair of narrow tweezers, 12 inches long, grasping a small piece of metal the size of a small pill.
"-- this pill, will conduct the field. The idea is just like magnets you have on the refrigerator, just much bigger. Have you ever been hurt by a refrigerator magnet?"
"Well...dropped one on my foot," she said with a hint of a smile.
Dr. Herman smiled back. "And when you did, the magnetic field didn't hurt, did it? So, this won't hurt you either. The only thing it will do is affect the fetus.
"Remember that beating heart? This magnet will confuse the heart cells, the brain cells, and certain other cells involved in development. When we aim this at the fetus, in a very narrow area, the cells will go on strike, you might say."
She nodded. "So there are no needles or anything?"
"I will have to put this pill inside of your uterus, but that will be quick. That's all. Once the fetus' cells are confused, then after a couple of days, you will just miscarry. It will look like an accident."
Those were the words that never failed to make a patient's eyes light up. Because anyone who hired him, who couldn't leave their small town, had to make it look like an accident.
This seemed to show her real hope for the first time since he had met her. It was the kind of thing that made him certain that, contrary to his detractors, he was protecting life.
"Now, I want you to understand something very important," he insisted, voice getting more gentle instead of more stern, "when you miscarry, it will not be pleasant. It will hurt. It will be bloody. It will be scary. I want you to call 911 right away. Otherwise, you may be seriously hurt, or even die. Do you understand?"
She nodded. Her eyes showed resolve. Hope, thought Dr. Herman, made her able to face the spectre of death.
"This is very important. If you have bad cramps, or see blood coming out, call 911 right away. Tell me you will."
"If I have cramps, or see blood, I will call 911."
"Good. This is standard advice for a miscarriage. If you have not been to see a obstetrician -- have you?"
She shook her head.
"Well, they will tell you that. No one will think anything of it. Besides, who wouldn't call 911 if they saw blood?"
She nodded, seeming to think it over for a moment, before a smile grew on her face. "And then," she sighed, "it will be over."
"Yes. If you can pull through, it will all be over. That's the plan. Do you have any questions?"
"Can't -- Mr. Whatever, go somewhere else?"
The Doctor was sympathetic as he gave the bad news. "I'm afraid not. He needs to look for anyone who might be looking for you. Or us. We've been all over this state, think about how many cops would like to find us. But I have an idea..."
Dr. Herman took one of the blankets, and using a small container of thumb tacks, pressed two corners of the bed sheet into the cheap drywall ceiling. Adding a couple more made a privacy sheet on the side of the bed, vaguely resembling a medical curtain.
"How's that?" he asked from the other side.
"Thanks," she sighed, with a grin he could hear.
He walked around it, and brought out something from one of the cases carried by Mr. Barnes: an oscilloscope. She looked at it, as he plugged it in on the far side of the bed, and adjusted the knobs.
"And now, it's time take your underwear off."
She did quickly. Dr. Herman gently pulled her dress, up to her waist.
"Good. Now, prop up on those pillows, and get comfortable. I need you sitting up, with your legs apart."
She put her back on the two pillows she had, and bunched up her knees to spread her legs.
"Good," repeated the Doctor, resting the flashlight where it would shine correctly, and grasping the pair of tweezers in his hands, like oversized chop sticks.
"Now, I need you not to move, okay? You might feel something strange, but don't move."
She clenched her teeth, grabbed one pillow from behind her to grab, wiggled once, and them went still, everything clenched from her waist up.
"Okay, in it goes.... good... almost there.... good.... it's in... stay still.... now coming back out.... and, done."
She gasped a sigh of relief, like putting down a weight.
"There. All done with that. See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"
She shook her head, still catching her breath.
"Now that's all we need of your insides. You can get dressed again, if you would like.
She did choose that opportunity, quite quickly.
"All that's left is the belt," he offered, "I'll put it in the right spot.... here."
He placed it around her waist, just above her pregnancy bulge.
"-- and you can strap it on."
She did, not tightly.
He then hooked up two wires on one end of the belt to the sockets on the oscilloscope.
"Okay are you ready? You may feel it shake a little, because remember this is a magnet, and that is metal."
"I think so," she said, with sudden hesitation.
"I need to make sure if you are really ready."
She thought for a long moment, as he made fine adjustments to the dials, and put his finger on the switch.
"Yes," she answered, "I want it to be over."
"Okay. Here it goes..."
Click.
"Ugh," she groaned.
"What do you feel?" asked the Doctor quickly.
"Just ... shaking," she groaned.
"That's okay. It'll feel like that. Because after all, the magnetic field is shaking it 1000 times a second."
"Wow," she groaned.
"Just relax. I can give you something to relax you, if you would like, make you feel sleepy."
"Yeah," she answered through clenched teeth, watching the LED graph of the magnetic field as it continued to scan by.
"Would you prefer a pill that will take 20 minutes, or a shot that will take 20 seconds?"
"Shot," she begged, looking up at him with mild desperation.
"Okay, that's fine with me. Now, have you ever taken morphine before?"
"No."
"Are you on any medications right now?"
"Just calcium."
"No problem then. Just go to sleep. My friend and I will see ourselves out."
"O-okay," she hesitated.
"Trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you. And if I thought Mr. Barnes would hurt you, I wouldn't work with him. Trust me. Okay?"
"Okay," she repeated, staring at the needle as he got it out of its sterile package.
After the obligatory dot of rubbing alcohol on her arm, she was given the shot with an "ow!"
And shortly after that, she wasn't so annoyed by the vibrations in her uterus anymore.
Once she had drifted off, Dr. Herman took the sheet down from the ceiling, covered her with it, and packed up the rest of his tools.
He walked over to Barnes and whispered, "anything?"
The hyena was listening to a hand-held radio on his ear. "No mention of us so far. But they know the girl is missing. Her parents reported her as kidnapped, and they're looking hard."
"Which would put us in a bad spot if they found us here," nodded Herman. "We should at least try to wait it out. Even an hour is only a 75% chance of success."
"I thought you put that thing in the head!" he snapped in a stage whisper.
"Yes, but I might have missed. It was impossible to see in there. I want to give her the best chance I can."
"Fine," he growled.
They sat around, Barnes listening to the radio, Herman reading a book he kept in Barnes' equipment case.
When 55 minutes had passed, 5 minutes too short, Barnes suddenly stepped over to Herman, and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Back to our room," he demanded. "Now."
Herman didn't argue. He quickly took off the belt, yanked the plug from the scope and gave it to Herman, and both of them furiously packed up, while Anetta blissfully slept. The moment they could carry everything, forgetting about proper re-packing, they hustled out, dashed down the hall, got into their room, and slammed the door.
Not two seconds later, they heard several pairs of feet stepping down the hall at a quick pace. They yelled at someone, and rapped loudly several doors down. More rapping. More yelling.
"Any suggestions?" asked Herman nervously.
"They still don't know about us. Just stay put."
"If they break in, they'll know she's drugged!"
"Just. Stay. Put," calmly commanded Barnes.
The feet kicked in the door, and shortly thereafter, more yelling was accompanied by a girl screaming as boots carried her back down the hall, and then faded out.
"They have her," Herman sighed. "They'll know we were here."
"You don't know that."
"You were the one who said that they've started giving the women X-Rays if they are found in Hotel rooms! Because of us!" Herman snapped, getting quieter instead of louder. "I mean it, we will be caught!"
"We will order room service at 10 PM, and check out at midnight. It will take them time to decide to search for us. Between X-Rays, hospitals, paperwork, and lab tests, it always does."
"Fine," Herman growled, and with his lab coat still on, laid down in the bed to sleep, while Mr. Barnes kept watch. He didn't like it, but it was a plan that had worked dozens of times before.
The End.