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The Waiting is the Hardest Part

A Reposted Collection of Dvorak's Tweets

Prologue :

Oh... How do I get myself into these things? How do we all get ourselves into these things? If there's one thing I've learned from the customer feedback of the people who own the other Bowman's Wolves, it's that chief among our many unique skills is the ability to cause trouble. I never wanted to make trouble for anyone. I've always been very much against conflict, even from times before I can remember; back when I was a puppy...

That was how I got my name. A week or so after I had been brought to my new home, my owners had gotten into an argument. They said that it scared me, especially when they raised their voices. Makes sense to me. Of course it's scary when your alphas fight! And it never turns out well for anyone. So I did the only thing I could do. I barked my cute-little-puppy head off until they stopped. They soon decided that whatever the disagreement was, it wasn't worth upsetting the new puppy over.

From then on, they called me Donna. From the Church Latin_dona nobis pacem_, meaning 'giveus peace.' I like that name. Knowing that I was a born peacekeeper makes me feel just a little bit more noble every time I hear it. I couldn'thelp but despair at how I'dfailed at that grand ambition of mine, as I considered the Morbidity and Mortality Conference that I foundmyself anxiously waiting on. Sitting uncomfortably in the various waiting rooms, pacing about the halls, constantly reminding myself not to whine...

I hadfree run of the hospital while the Conference was in session. They'd page for me when they hadreached a decision. Heck, I could even have taken a nap in the lounge if I'd thought for a moment that I'd have beenable to get to sleep. I always wake to the sound of my name being called anyway. I was still trapped by circumstance though. I'd almost have preferred it if they had just chained me to a post out in the courtyard. At least then the unfairness of my situation would've been visually apparent.

I heard myname called out from down the hall, shaking me from my thoughts. It was a middle-aged female voice, strong, confident. I easily recognized it as belonging to the Head Nurse. Good, I knew whose scent I was looking for as I roundedthe corner. It wasa scent I liked, a lot of the other nurses woreperfumes that mademy nose itch if I get too close. Nurse Barnes was much more conservative. A store-brand deodorant and sometimes an essential oil of some kind, very tasteful. Today it was peppermint.

It wasn'tlong before I cameupon the person attached to the smell. Her back was to me, but I could see the frazzled bun of her curly hair. I've heard people describe her as a redhead, and I'll have to take their word for it, ditto on her distinctive pink scrubs. I walked up behind her, staying on the opposite side of the counter. I used to approach people much more closely, but I often ended up startling them.

My paws are very quiet on these floors, same deal for my fur beneath these initiate scrubs. Everyone else has shoes squeaking, medical instruments rattling, lab coatsflapping, little technical gadgets beeping; a dozen things that give them away. I move through this place like a ghost. Unintentional stalking was a habit that it took me some time to break. The threat of being forced to wear a bell around my neck did wonders for my motivation in that respect. Nurse Barnes had gotten used to it, but it was still probably best if I announcedmyself.

"Yes, Nurse Barnes?"

"Every time, Donna." She turned around with a friendly smile. "Every time I think you're not there I feel a claw tap me on the shoulder or hear you pipe up from whatever place you've decided to appear in."

She's right. She's actually made a habit of this kind of thing; just saying my name in a clear voice out into empty space and depending on me to show up. She assumes that if she's seen me in the past couple minutes that I'm still in earshot. She's right of course, as 'earshot' for me is about forty yards.

"You've always said that it's a nurse's job to be everywhere at the same time." I told her.

"Ah, that I did. But I think you're a lot closer to achieving that than I am." Good-natured tone with a smile like usual. Her eyes weren't smiling though. She was just as worried about the Conference as I was, but she was trying to make me feel better. That was nice of her.

I nodded deferentially. I was in no hurry to go back to brooding quietly by myself, but I didn't feel the need to entertain her sympathies for any too much longer either. I knew it wouldn't be long before that 'Head Nurse' impulse kicked in and she'd get back to business.

"Can you have a look at the ultrasound machine on the second floor for me?" Right on cue. "Network admin says that it's working normally but it's refusing all requests from remote terminals to access patient profiles."

"Uh, ultrasound? I'm not so sure about that. I... I don't know as I could actually _fix_it." I said, breaking her gaze and drooping my ears. She has a habit of asking too much of me...

"Oh, I wouldn't expect you to, dear. Just go down there, see if it's anything obvious, talk to it a little. Maybe you can give the techs a better idea what's wrong with it."

Of course! The ultrasound machine was programmed with an AI as a user interface. If I needed to know what was wrong I could just ask it.

"I'll get right on it." I said, flushed with confidence in spite of myself.

Nurse Barnes nodded back to me. She was probably going to say something else, but in that moment an intern hustled up to her brandishing a clipboard, already chattering away with questions. I left her to it.

That woman... I can't count how many times she's made me go from 'I don't think I can...' to 'Yes, Nurse Barnes!' in a single sentence. I'll be resolutely convinced of something one minute only to find myself saying the exact opposite only moments later, looking down my muzzle in confusion as though my mouth had somehow betrayed me.

She can't give me orders. Not that kind of orders anyway. Very few people around here can do that unless there's an emergency. And if there is a crisis situation I'm quite inclined to spring into action regardless. When my heart gets pumping really fast like that I tend to lose track of where my actions are coming from. Donna the aspiring nurse, Donna the domesticated wolf and Donna's artificial biotic programming all kind of smear together for an instant. Fortunately the part of me that knows how to actuate a cortical stimulator tends to have more influence than the part of me that wants to tear someone to ribbons or run for my life. I don't talk about that much. Somehow I get the impression that there would be some concern raised if someone found out that my first instinct in a life-or-death situation is 'Attack!'

At first I thought that she was using a subconscious prompt that was added as some kind of after-market feature. When your brain came off an assembly line you face a very real danger of baleful mind control at all times. I asked around about this strange effect though, and the response I got was surprising. Apparently she does this to just about everyone. The humans are just as mystified about it as I am. That's the Head Nurse's job though I suppose. You've got to make whatever you have into what you need, as you almost never actually have exactly what you need.

Regardless of my reservations, it felt good now that I had something to do. I still worried about the ongoing deliberations of the Conference in the back of my mind, but things in the back of my mind don't often stop my tail from wagging. The front of my mind was busily jumping about and being excited because I get to help now and stop sitting around feeling sorry for myself. I carefully mediated that impulse against my actual actions to maintain some sense of decorum. It's something that I find myself doing quite often, so much so that it's become second nature.

I always thought that the docs were in charge around here until I met Nurse Barnes. They certainly seem like alphas at first glance. They wear their pedigree like a mantle on their shoulders. Smooth, confident strides through the halls, nodding in acknowledgment of their subordinates, speaking with the resolute authority that comes with their expertise. They know how to shake their tails and show off, but just you wait until they need something from the Head Nurse! The docs have the authority, but everyone knows that it's not the ruling class that has the power. Power comes from the workhorses. The ones who actually go about getting things done.

Oh sure, the white coats can tell her what to do, but you should see the way they talk to her, even when they're issuing orders. Head tilted down, no eye contact, body angled away from her, face usually buried in a clipboard or datapad at the time, soft voice, instructions phrased as a question, then waiting patiently for her response... Hah! They might as well roll belly-up on the floor and mewl plaintively at her. They put their alpha disguise right back on once they get what they need, so quickly you might miss it if you're not looking for it. But it's painfully obvious how every one of them has to dip their head and fold their ears once in awhile if they're going to get what they want.

I couldn't ask for a better alpha to be in that position though. Nurse Barnes can make you feel good about working for her. That's a rare and admirable quality in a leader. I hope to be like her someday. Someday when I get a little more respect around here than a stethoscope... Well, that got my tail to settle down now didn't it? Most people don't really care to make me feel like anything more than hired help. Or, since I don't technically work here yet, slave labor. And now one of that small handful of people that do seem to care about me is on trial and has his career on the chopping block.

My ears drooped again as I looked at my bleary reflection in the floor. "I'm so sorry, Doctor Carter..." I sighed.

The ding of the elevator in front of me made me jump a little. Ultrasound machine, right. I waited for the crowd getting off, none of whom so much as glanced at me, and then hopped inside. The stairs were usually quicker, but I'm a lot steadier on stairs if I'm on all fours. If I do that then I have to wash my hands and I get all kinds of funny looks and stuff falls out of my pockets, blech. Elevator it is.

My confidence had begun to ebb slightly as I walked through the hall up to the equipment room. I really didn't know what I was doing. I was never much for advanced machines, that's why I was studying to become a nurse and not a surgeon or biomedical tech. I got along great with people by and large, and nursing has tenfold the face-time of anything else in the field.

The other thing that was shortening my stride and lowering my tail was that, if I hadn't made it obvious before, I don't like the ultrasound room. The sound isn't quite ultra enough for my taste. It's well beyond my range of hearing, yes, but I can still feel this disconcerting pressure in my head when there's a sonogram going on. I was in the room for one once and I had to leave. After a few minutes it was messing with my equilibrium and I was having trouble keeping my paws underneath me.

The room on the other side of this door was a dark and scary place filled with sinister machines that rattled my teeth and left my head swimming. I don't like it. I don't want to be here, I don't want to be here! Had my skin been visible I'm sure my knuckles would've shown white as I squeezed the doorknob. I didn't remember grasping it.

"Stupid... Head Nurse... brainwashing powers... rrrgh..." My claws were putting scratches in the brushed metal finish.

I took a deep breath and steeled myself against the unknown as I opened the door. Come on, Donna. It's got a brain in it. It'll be just like in the pediatric ward. Just smile and ask it where the ouchies are...