The Surgeon

The Surgeon 9

This looks incredibly freaky.

All I can manage is, "Hi Brogan."

His mouth shoots open with such a violent force that the bandages tear. After a seconds delay he emits a piercing scream that causes me to clamp my ears and drop to the floor.

I look up and see the horror of his swollen face writhe in agony; a seeping scarlet, stains the bandages like a slow flooding red river. The high definition magnifies the brutality of his torture.

When I see evidence of his pain reduce, I ask, "What are they doing to you..."

He cuts in with a hurried breathlessness, "Don't ever call me that again, please."

"What, don't call you, Brogan?" I ask.

His searing screech floors me again, literally knocking me off my feet in my attempt to escape its violent invasion. I want to open the door, but can't remove my hands from my ears during his pained siren.

Then I suddenly get it, and holler through my clamped ears – "OK, BRIGITTE!"

His head rests back. When I see the obvious evidence of pain relief flood his eyes, I stand and ask, "Are you Ok now, Brigitte?"

His rapid breaths begin to slow, "That's better, the pain relief is welcome – thank you."

"I didn't give you the pain relief," I say.

His words come slowly, "They inflicted my pain when you addressed me with the wrong gender, they infused my pain relief when you corrected yourself," he says.

......

My head shakes with frustration. I really need to out-think these monsters.

.......

The soft plea interrupts my thoughts, "Can you help me?" he asks, his voice murky with morphine.

My head is craned back, looking upwards. I'm lost for words, I guess I can only give him the truth, "I'm not sure I can. But you know, I've been through what's happened to you, you get used to it pretty quickly," I say.

I can tell that every word pains him, "I have a baby, my freaking baby, growing inside me – that I can't get used to – never, ever," he says.

I think before I reply, "Brigitte, you know they're watching us right now. You mustn't talk like this, otherwise they'll punish you," I say.

I remember something from school, a secret way of communicating that we had, "Look, Brigitte, you need to embrace your new gender and identity. Learn from my mistakes," as I talk, I stroke my right eyebrow; this was our old code for 'I'm bullshitting.' I continue, "It's amazing that you're having your own kid, you'll be a world first, even though the world won't know about it." I rub my left eye; this is code for 'You understand me?' I see the smallest of smiles break his swollen lips.

He gets me, knows I'll do my best to help.

Then there's a click and with it Brogan/Brigitte's image vanishes.

......

I feel sad.

......

I decide to give up this game. I want to return to my parent's secret lair/diner and stake it out for a while; watch the comings and goings to see if I can find anything useful. I need to work on a strategy to expose them and save us all from their psychosis.

......

I re-enter the room.

They're gone!

Professor Merton and Charlotte have vanished.