Fiction: Warning: Contains Caffeine
“Nurse Calvin, we need you over here right away.”
Celia left her clipboard at the nurses’ station and hurried over to the cubicle at the end of the Clinical Research Unit. It was only her second week in the new job and she was beginning to regret accepting the promotion. Nurses had been fleeing from Mintburg Psychiatric Institute like bulimics from a cafeteria for the past six months and Celia knew she would never have been offered the promotion under normal circumstances. She was totally out of her depth.
The patient causing all the fuss was Mr Padden, one of the many Energetix Psychosis patients who dominated the Clinical Research Unit. Celia was not surprised.
She reached the cubicle and pulled back the curtain to reveal two large orderlies struggling to hold the patient down as he tried to force his way out of their grip. Celia noticed the blood on his fingers first, then she looked up at the wall. It was a product strategy proposal for Mr Patten’s employers, Enviroport. It was written in Mr Patten’s blood.
“This report sets out a proposed product strategy for the Enviroport Logistics Service, to be launched on 4th April 2007. The central driver to the strategy is the need to enable an innovative logistics service for service users, with accelerated response to customer queries and-“ From there, the text became illegible as Mr Patten’s blood had dripped down the wall and made any further reading impossible. Celia looked at the pool of blood amassed on the floor behind the bed. Normally, anyone who had lost such a substantial amount of blood would be unconscious by now, but Mr Patten was still struggling for freedom from his captors so he could finish his report.
Enviroport had fired him four months ago. His work had become increasingly erratic until one day he was discovered attempting to fax a roll of toilet paper to the US Logistics Agency for approval. The toilet paper was embroidered with Mr Patten’s tiny, spider-like handwriting, detailing the legal ramifications of expansion into Canada. His impulse to get it all down had been so great that he simply couldn’t delay it until he’d stopped peeing and got back to his desk.
“Why is it in blood?” Celia demanded of one of the orderlies. “What happened to the pen I gave him?”
“Nurse Kellehan asked me to take it away,” one of the orderlies explained. “She said he needed to rest.”
Celia cursed under her breath. Kellehan was old-school. She’d been here for twenty years and the possibility that she might not always know best never entered her head for a nanosecond. Celia had worked with Energetix Psychosis patients before. She knew that it was pointless trying to get them to relax. They couldn’t. They had to be constantly productive. Their minds worked so fast that their bodies couldn’t keep up, but they had to try. It was lucky for Mr Patten that he had the wherewithal to write in his own blood rather than try to follow Kellehan’s suggestion and rest.
Celia helped the orderlies to sedate Mr Patten then set about cleaning up the floor. It would usually be the cleaner’s job, but since the influx of Energetix patients six months ago, the cleaners had been abandoning ship at an even faster rate than the nurses. Not surprising, given the sharp rise in incidents involving copious amounts of blood, vomit and urine.
Celia could hear loud grunting noises coming from down the corridor.
“What’s going on over there?” she asked Nurse Clondale, who had just entered from Treatment Room 1.
“Miss Linsay is waiting for her consultation,” Nurse Clondale told her. “She’s teaching herself judo again.”
“That damn advert,” Celia muttered under her breath. In her opinion, it was madness to let the Energetix patients watch television. It was only going to give them ideas. But it was by far the easiest way of keeping them occupied, even if it did always lead to trouble later. Miss Linsay had watched an advertisement for Neuroflex painkillers two days ago. It featured a martial artist using judo to “punch through the pain.” Miss Linsay had memorised the 30 second advertisement and used it as a basis to teach herself judo. So far, she’d broken three toilet bowls, one payphone and another patient’s arm. She hadn’t stopped when she broke two bones in her own foot and Celia doubted she would stop even if she somehow managed to sever her own spinal cord.
She turned her attention back to Mr Patten. He was Celia’s most important patient and she intended to make sure that he survived until his hearing came before a court. The Energetix energy drink range had left hundreds with severe psychosis. It should never have been released onto the market. One hundred times more powerful than its biggest competitor, Energetix was condemned by the medical community before it was even available in stores. Not only had Energetix ignored the criticism, but it had taken the company four months after the first emergence of Energetix Psychosis Syndrome to remove their product from the shelves. If Mr Patten could win recognition and compensation, it would set a precedent that would open the doors for others. Mr Patten had no history whatsoever of mental illness, not even depression, and no judge in the world would be able to deny that it was the repeated ingestion of Energetix energy drinks that had made him crazy.
The trouble was keeping him alive that long. Energetix Psychosis patients had a tendency to hurt themselves badly if their impulses couldn’t be controlled. But trying to suppress those impulses altogether was much more dangerous. Celia had seen the effects first-hand at her last hospital. She wouldn’t forget those images in a hurry.
“Celia! Come quickly!” It was Nurse Clondale, yelling from down the corridor. Celia rushed towards Treatment Room 4. Nurse Clondale was kneeling down on the floor, trying to urge Mr Redding to stand up.
“I’m not moving, I’m not moving, I’m not moving,” Mr Redding repeated quietly. Celia understood why Nurse Clondale was so worried. Celia had told her about her experiences at her last hospital.
“It’s best not to fight it, Mr Redding,” Celia said calmly, although she was anything but calm. The hairs on the back of the neck stood up and she knew she was about to witness the inevitable end to yet another Energetix Psychosis patient.
“You have to get up, Mr Redding.” Nurse Clondale wasn’t even maintaining the illusion of calm. She pulled Mr Redding by his arms, slapped his face, pushed him around. Anything to try to get a reaction.
“Just leave me alone,” the old man responded. “I’ve had enough. I’m sick of doing all these dumb things. I just wanna sit and be left alone.”
Celia knew it was too late. He was already too still, his body was slowing down whilst the blood was flowing into his brain was going faster and faster and faster.
“Mr Redding, please!” Nurse Clondale was almost in tears. “You have to keep active, you have to-“
It happened. Mr Redding’s face went scarlet red as the rest of his body seemed to shrink inwards. Celia could see the purple veins pulsing in his face from the doorway. His head exploded. Blood, skin and grey matter surged outwards, splattering on the floor, walls, ceilings and Nurse Clondale.
Celia looked down at her fresh white uniform and was glad she had kept her distance.
Mr Redding’s headless body slumped down on the floor lifelessly. Nurse Clondale was frozen from shock.
Celia walked over to the telephone in the corner of Treatment Room 4 and dialled the required extension number. “It’s happened,” she said when her call was answered. “Mr Redding. Treatment Room 4. Send a clean-up team.”
The clean-up teams would probably take a couple of hours to arrive. They had to be thorough in their work and there was always a lot of it to do. They, like everyone else, were short staffed.
Very little blood spilled from the remains of Mr Redding’s body. Most of his blood had surged towards his head and, as such, was now coating the ceiling, walls and floor.
Celia looked at Nurse Clondale thoughtfully. She was still holding on to Mr Redding’s hand. Celia left her there for the clean-up team to take care of. What could she tell her? That watching patients’ heads explode was all part of the job?
Celia went back to the Clinical Research Unit, where Mr Patten had woken up and was attempting to fashion a three dimensional pie-chart from her pen and his bedpan.
THE END
Celia left her clipboard at the nurses’ station and hurried over to the cubicle at the end of the Clinical Research Unit. It was only her second week in the new job and she was beginning to regret accepting the promotion. Nurses had been fleeing from Mintburg Psychiatric Institute like bulimics from a cafeteria for the past six months and Celia knew she would never have been offered the promotion under normal circumstances. She was totally out of her depth.
The patient causing all the fuss was Mr Padden, one of the many Energetix Psychosis patients who dominated the Clinical Research Unit. Celia was not surprised.
She reached the cubicle and pulled back the curtain to reveal two large orderlies struggling to hold the patient down as he tried to force his way out of their grip. Celia noticed the blood on his fingers first, then she looked up at the wall. It was a product strategy proposal for Mr Patten’s employers, Enviroport. It was written in Mr Patten’s blood.
“This report sets out a proposed product strategy for the Enviroport Logistics Service, to be launched on 4th April 2007. The central driver to the strategy is the need to enable an innovative logistics service for service users, with accelerated response to customer queries and-“ From there, the text became illegible as Mr Patten’s blood had dripped down the wall and made any further reading impossible. Celia looked at the pool of blood amassed on the floor behind the bed. Normally, anyone who had lost such a substantial amount of blood would be unconscious by now, but Mr Patten was still struggling for freedom from his captors so he could finish his report.
Enviroport had fired him four months ago. His work had become increasingly erratic until one day he was discovered attempting to fax a roll of toilet paper to the US Logistics Agency for approval. The toilet paper was embroidered with Mr Patten’s tiny, spider-like handwriting, detailing the legal ramifications of expansion into Canada. His impulse to get it all down had been so great that he simply couldn’t delay it until he’d stopped peeing and got back to his desk.
“Why is it in blood?” Celia demanded of one of the orderlies. “What happened to the pen I gave him?”
“Nurse Kellehan asked me to take it away,” one of the orderlies explained. “She said he needed to rest.”
Celia cursed under her breath. Kellehan was old-school. She’d been here for twenty years and the possibility that she might not always know best never entered her head for a nanosecond. Celia had worked with Energetix Psychosis patients before. She knew that it was pointless trying to get them to relax. They couldn’t. They had to be constantly productive. Their minds worked so fast that their bodies couldn’t keep up, but they had to try. It was lucky for Mr Patten that he had the wherewithal to write in his own blood rather than try to follow Kellehan’s suggestion and rest.
Celia helped the orderlies to sedate Mr Patten then set about cleaning up the floor. It would usually be the cleaner’s job, but since the influx of Energetix patients six months ago, the cleaners had been abandoning ship at an even faster rate than the nurses. Not surprising, given the sharp rise in incidents involving copious amounts of blood, vomit and urine.
Celia could hear loud grunting noises coming from down the corridor.
“What’s going on over there?” she asked Nurse Clondale, who had just entered from Treatment Room 1.
“Miss Linsay is waiting for her consultation,” Nurse Clondale told her. “She’s teaching herself judo again.”
“That damn advert,” Celia muttered under her breath. In her opinion, it was madness to let the Energetix patients watch television. It was only going to give them ideas. But it was by far the easiest way of keeping them occupied, even if it did always lead to trouble later. Miss Linsay had watched an advertisement for Neuroflex painkillers two days ago. It featured a martial artist using judo to “punch through the pain.” Miss Linsay had memorised the 30 second advertisement and used it as a basis to teach herself judo. So far, she’d broken three toilet bowls, one payphone and another patient’s arm. She hadn’t stopped when she broke two bones in her own foot and Celia doubted she would stop even if she somehow managed to sever her own spinal cord.
She turned her attention back to Mr Patten. He was Celia’s most important patient and she intended to make sure that he survived until his hearing came before a court. The Energetix energy drink range had left hundreds with severe psychosis. It should never have been released onto the market. One hundred times more powerful than its biggest competitor, Energetix was condemned by the medical community before it was even available in stores. Not only had Energetix ignored the criticism, but it had taken the company four months after the first emergence of Energetix Psychosis Syndrome to remove their product from the shelves. If Mr Patten could win recognition and compensation, it would set a precedent that would open the doors for others. Mr Patten had no history whatsoever of mental illness, not even depression, and no judge in the world would be able to deny that it was the repeated ingestion of Energetix energy drinks that had made him crazy.
The trouble was keeping him alive that long. Energetix Psychosis patients had a tendency to hurt themselves badly if their impulses couldn’t be controlled. But trying to suppress those impulses altogether was much more dangerous. Celia had seen the effects first-hand at her last hospital. She wouldn’t forget those images in a hurry.
“Celia! Come quickly!” It was Nurse Clondale, yelling from down the corridor. Celia rushed towards Treatment Room 4. Nurse Clondale was kneeling down on the floor, trying to urge Mr Redding to stand up.
“I’m not moving, I’m not moving, I’m not moving,” Mr Redding repeated quietly. Celia understood why Nurse Clondale was so worried. Celia had told her about her experiences at her last hospital.
“It’s best not to fight it, Mr Redding,” Celia said calmly, although she was anything but calm. The hairs on the back of the neck stood up and she knew she was about to witness the inevitable end to yet another Energetix Psychosis patient.
“You have to get up, Mr Redding.” Nurse Clondale wasn’t even maintaining the illusion of calm. She pulled Mr Redding by his arms, slapped his face, pushed him around. Anything to try to get a reaction.
“Just leave me alone,” the old man responded. “I’ve had enough. I’m sick of doing all these dumb things. I just wanna sit and be left alone.”
Celia knew it was too late. He was already too still, his body was slowing down whilst the blood was flowing into his brain was going faster and faster and faster.
“Mr Redding, please!” Nurse Clondale was almost in tears. “You have to keep active, you have to-“
It happened. Mr Redding’s face went scarlet red as the rest of his body seemed to shrink inwards. Celia could see the purple veins pulsing in his face from the doorway. His head exploded. Blood, skin and grey matter surged outwards, splattering on the floor, walls, ceilings and Nurse Clondale.
Celia looked down at her fresh white uniform and was glad she had kept her distance.
Mr Redding’s headless body slumped down on the floor lifelessly. Nurse Clondale was frozen from shock.
Celia walked over to the telephone in the corner of Treatment Room 4 and dialled the required extension number. “It’s happened,” she said when her call was answered. “Mr Redding. Treatment Room 4. Send a clean-up team.”
The clean-up teams would probably take a couple of hours to arrive. They had to be thorough in their work and there was always a lot of it to do. They, like everyone else, were short staffed.
Very little blood spilled from the remains of Mr Redding’s body. Most of his blood had surged towards his head and, as such, was now coating the ceiling, walls and floor.
Celia looked at Nurse Clondale thoughtfully. She was still holding on to Mr Redding’s hand. Celia left her there for the clean-up team to take care of. What could she tell her? That watching patients’ heads explode was all part of the job?
Celia went back to the Clinical Research Unit, where Mr Patten had woken up and was attempting to fashion a three dimensional pie-chart from her pen and his bedpan.
THE END