NaNoWriMo first week of Nov - and more
Maggie was tired, but she was getting ready for her big acting job. She wished that she didn’t have to be sicker to get out of here with the excuse of wanting to go home and die. But Team Maggie was right, it seemed that this way would cause the least suspicion.
So much for getting into the Tower hospital for help! She got the super nanites, though, and she guessed that was the best way to get them into her. Now they lay dormant, except for a few that were temporarily programmed to cause havoc.
She also wished she knew why she was apparently singled out to not receive the nanites that were being kept secret in the first place. She couldn’t think of a reason.
She wasn’t politically active, like that would make a difference to the near totalitarian regime that the Towers represented. Yes, the Towers were non-political, as public servants, but when a region has only one major employer and the vast majority of people in that city work for that Tower, it’s really hard to actually be non-political. Social psychology just bends around such an immovable force.
She didn’t protest the effects the Tower was having on the environment. Even though she knew what was going on, now that Edwin, Thomas and Madeline found out the extent of the environmental damages. Still, signs were there and some people have been picking up on it and protesting. Maggie didn’t want to call attention to herself and her family, given the now precarious position her brothers and (soon to be sister in law she, was convinced) Madeline are in now that the Tower has every opportunity to investigate their exact revealing experiments.
Maggie didn’t think she had any enemies, as if normal everyday enemies had any complaint besides perhaps because she wouldn’t share her red velvet cake recipe.
“Hi Mom,” said a small voice from the door.
“Um,’ Maggie replied. The show had started. She hoped her precocious 8 year old would be able to keep from overacting.
“Hello honey,” said a larger voice behind her daughter. Good old Sam. She smiled weakly. If he had any sense, he would not get in his daughter’s way. Miriam was determined to sell this.
Miriam walked over to the Maggie’s bed. Miriam sighed and laid her hand on her mother’s arm.
Maggie took a sharp intake of breath. Miriam froze, then whipped her hand away. “Oh, mommy, mommy, I’m sorry!”
Maggie reached out weakly and touched Miriam’s hand frozen in mid air. “That’s okay, honey, I was just surprised, that’s all.”
Miriam put her arms straight to her sides. “Okay,” she said with an unsure note.
Maggie looked at her daughter, into her daughter’s eyes. She saw that Miriam knew that she was acting, that her touch did not harm Maggie in the least. Sore, she was, but not that sore.
She realized with a start that she had nearly the same puesdo physic communication with her daughter as she had with her twin. She wondered if Miriam ever had a twin that was reabsorbed before she was a few cells across. Maggie thought that the intense non verbal communication was a twin thing, but maybe it was a family thing, or a Turner/Calledon thing.
Sam stepped up beside their daughter. He put his hands lightly on Miriam’s shoulders. “Well, Mags, how are we doing?” He used the plural “we” on purpose. What happens to one Turner happens to them all. What happens to one Calledon happens to each Calledon and Turner, as well.
Maggie gave an obvious, pointed look to their daughter. “Perhaps, hmm,” she said softly to her husband.
“What? What?” Miriam protested. “What’s going on! What aren’t you telling me?” She ripped herself out of her dad’s easy grasp. “What?”
“Mommy’s dying.” Maggie said, flatly.
“What?” Miriam’s eyes welled with tears. “No, no, no, no!!”
Sam gasped. “Margaret, what, what are you doing?”
“Telling our daughter the truth. And you the truth, as much as you don’t want to face it.”
“I miss you, mommy! I want you to be better and come home!” Miriam’s face was full of tears that had not fallen.
“I’m telling you what I’m going to do. “ Maggie pretended, but not much, to be hard of breath. “I’m going home.”
She had not discussed this with the doctors. Oh, darn, they would be the ones that didn’t know what was going on this time.
Miriam wiped away her tears. “What? Really? Really?!? Wow, yes!!!” even in Miriam’s excitement, she reached over and gave her mother a gentler than gentle hug.
Sam looked confused. “What? How?”
Maggie announced. “I’m leaving. There is nothing more they can do for me here. I’m not happy. I’m going home. And that’s that.”
“YAY!” Miriam called out. “Oops! Sorry! Didn’t mean to yell!”
Sam didn’t look convinced. “Honey, they, but…”
“Miriam,” said Maggie. Miriam looked down at her mother. “You need to understand something, dear. I’m am going to die”
Miriam’s lip started quivering. Oh, she was good, Maggie thought. “But! But, mom!”
“I have no interest in staying here in this gloomy blue hospital room for my final, days, weeks? on earth.” Maggie said her to daughter. She looked up at her husband so he knew she was talking to him, too.
“Hello, Mrs. Turner?” a nurse in white appeared at the door. It was the one with the blue pumps from yesterday. “Time for your medicine. Oh, I see you have guests. Could you step out a moment, please?”
Maggie smirked to herself. “Oh, none of that stuff, not anymore! I’m going home!”
“What, Mrs. Turner? What do you mean? You haven’t been discharged yet. You aren’t better yet.” The nurse stepped closer to the bed, nudging Miriam out of the way. “Do you understand, Mrs. Turner? You can’t go home, not quite yet.” The nurse looked up at Sam pleadingly. Sam strengthened up and he looked down at the nurse.
“You heard what she said, mame. Margaret Turner is going home.”
The nurse stammered. “But, but, she hasn’t got clearance, she has to be checked out and approved to leave by a doctor!”
“Then get one. My wife,” he said wife pointedly and possessively, “is going home.”
Miriam smirked to herself. She didn’t see her dad get that determined that often. She didn’t need to. He sort of bent the world around him, but unlike things like the Tower that do it by sheer force and overbearing ness and economic control, Sam simply was Sam. He didn’t need to try that often to get his way. It’s just that he’s so easy going that his way is whatever way that others wanted to go. But not how. He was getting Mom home.
The nurse threw up her hands. “Well! Well!” and turned and left the room.
“That was fast,” commented Sam.
“Mm.” Maggie replied in a monosyllable. Just because she was pretending to be on her death bed doesn’t mean she didn’t feel like she was on the death bed.
Miriam presented her mother with a pair of green sweatpants. “I brought these to help keep you warm, but it looks like you can wear them home.” Miriam looked down again.
“Miri, honey, do you understand what is going on?” Sam asked gently.
Miriam looked up at her father, “Yes,” she then turned to her mother, “I do. Mom’s coming home so she can go Home.”
------------
The nurse had retrieved a doctor. It was funny how, once Maggie mentioned she was going home, hospital or no hospital, she suddenly got a nurse without ringing the bell for an hour and got a doctor in minutes.
“Hello doctor,” Maggie said.
“Now, Mrs. Turner, you aren’t going home just yet.” the doctor in all his white lab coated glory.
Maggie instantly didn’t like him. He was one of those people who had some measure of legitimate authority who decided that their word was law and they merely needed to announce the state of the world as they see fit.
The snark that Miriam inherited without question emerged from Maggie’s lips.
“Yeah, I am. I’m leaving. I’m sick. You aren’t making me better. You’ve only made things worse. I am dying, according to your holy doctors, and I am going home to die.”
The doctor’s imperturbable face didn’t move. “Mrs. Turner. You are staying here. We are not giving up on you just yet.”
“Fuck that,” Miriam piped up.
“Miriam Joy Turner, what did you say?” Maggie reprimanded her with her voice and was secretly amused at her daughter’s profanity.
“Mom’s going home!” Miriam stamped her foot. She stamped her foot? Maggie hid a smile in a sort of fake coughing fit.
Sam drew himself to his full height. “You heard the mite. You heard my wife. We are packing her things and taking her home.”
The doctor’s face moved slightly. “She is not leaving.”
“Fuck you,” Maggie replied.
So much for getting into the Tower hospital for help! She got the super nanites, though, and she guessed that was the best way to get them into her. Now they lay dormant, except for a few that were temporarily programmed to cause havoc.
She also wished she knew why she was apparently singled out to not receive the nanites that were being kept secret in the first place. She couldn’t think of a reason.
She wasn’t politically active, like that would make a difference to the near totalitarian regime that the Towers represented. Yes, the Towers were non-political, as public servants, but when a region has only one major employer and the vast majority of people in that city work for that Tower, it’s really hard to actually be non-political. Social psychology just bends around such an immovable force.
She didn’t protest the effects the Tower was having on the environment. Even though she knew what was going on, now that Edwin, Thomas and Madeline found out the extent of the environmental damages. Still, signs were there and some people have been picking up on it and protesting. Maggie didn’t want to call attention to herself and her family, given the now precarious position her brothers and (soon to be sister in law she, was convinced) Madeline are in now that the Tower has every opportunity to investigate their exact revealing experiments.
Maggie didn’t think she had any enemies, as if normal everyday enemies had any complaint besides perhaps because she wouldn’t share her red velvet cake recipe.
“Hi Mom,” said a small voice from the door.
“Um,’ Maggie replied. The show had started. She hoped her precocious 8 year old would be able to keep from overacting.
“Hello honey,” said a larger voice behind her daughter. Good old Sam. She smiled weakly. If he had any sense, he would not get in his daughter’s way. Miriam was determined to sell this.
Miriam walked over to the Maggie’s bed. Miriam sighed and laid her hand on her mother’s arm.
Maggie took a sharp intake of breath. Miriam froze, then whipped her hand away. “Oh, mommy, mommy, I’m sorry!”
Maggie reached out weakly and touched Miriam’s hand frozen in mid air. “That’s okay, honey, I was just surprised, that’s all.”
Miriam put her arms straight to her sides. “Okay,” she said with an unsure note.
Maggie looked at her daughter, into her daughter’s eyes. She saw that Miriam knew that she was acting, that her touch did not harm Maggie in the least. Sore, she was, but not that sore.
She realized with a start that she had nearly the same puesdo physic communication with her daughter as she had with her twin. She wondered if Miriam ever had a twin that was reabsorbed before she was a few cells across. Maggie thought that the intense non verbal communication was a twin thing, but maybe it was a family thing, or a Turner/Calledon thing.
Sam stepped up beside their daughter. He put his hands lightly on Miriam’s shoulders. “Well, Mags, how are we doing?” He used the plural “we” on purpose. What happens to one Turner happens to them all. What happens to one Calledon happens to each Calledon and Turner, as well.
Maggie gave an obvious, pointed look to their daughter. “Perhaps, hmm,” she said softly to her husband.
“What? What?” Miriam protested. “What’s going on! What aren’t you telling me?” She ripped herself out of her dad’s easy grasp. “What?”
“Mommy’s dying.” Maggie said, flatly.
“What?” Miriam’s eyes welled with tears. “No, no, no, no!!”
Sam gasped. “Margaret, what, what are you doing?”
“Telling our daughter the truth. And you the truth, as much as you don’t want to face it.”
“I miss you, mommy! I want you to be better and come home!” Miriam’s face was full of tears that had not fallen.
“I’m telling you what I’m going to do. “ Maggie pretended, but not much, to be hard of breath. “I’m going home.”
She had not discussed this with the doctors. Oh, darn, they would be the ones that didn’t know what was going on this time.
Miriam wiped away her tears. “What? Really? Really?!? Wow, yes!!!” even in Miriam’s excitement, she reached over and gave her mother a gentler than gentle hug.
Sam looked confused. “What? How?”
Maggie announced. “I’m leaving. There is nothing more they can do for me here. I’m not happy. I’m going home. And that’s that.”
“YAY!” Miriam called out. “Oops! Sorry! Didn’t mean to yell!”
Sam didn’t look convinced. “Honey, they, but…”
“Miriam,” said Maggie. Miriam looked down at her mother. “You need to understand something, dear. I’m am going to die”
Miriam’s lip started quivering. Oh, she was good, Maggie thought. “But! But, mom!”
“I have no interest in staying here in this gloomy blue hospital room for my final, days, weeks? on earth.” Maggie said her to daughter. She looked up at her husband so he knew she was talking to him, too.
“Hello, Mrs. Turner?” a nurse in white appeared at the door. It was the one with the blue pumps from yesterday. “Time for your medicine. Oh, I see you have guests. Could you step out a moment, please?”
Maggie smirked to herself. “Oh, none of that stuff, not anymore! I’m going home!”
“What, Mrs. Turner? What do you mean? You haven’t been discharged yet. You aren’t better yet.” The nurse stepped closer to the bed, nudging Miriam out of the way. “Do you understand, Mrs. Turner? You can’t go home, not quite yet.” The nurse looked up at Sam pleadingly. Sam strengthened up and he looked down at the nurse.
“You heard what she said, mame. Margaret Turner is going home.”
The nurse stammered. “But, but, she hasn’t got clearance, she has to be checked out and approved to leave by a doctor!”
“Then get one. My wife,” he said wife pointedly and possessively, “is going home.”
Miriam smirked to herself. She didn’t see her dad get that determined that often. She didn’t need to. He sort of bent the world around him, but unlike things like the Tower that do it by sheer force and overbearing ness and economic control, Sam simply was Sam. He didn’t need to try that often to get his way. It’s just that he’s so easy going that his way is whatever way that others wanted to go. But not how. He was getting Mom home.
The nurse threw up her hands. “Well! Well!” and turned and left the room.
“That was fast,” commented Sam.
“Mm.” Maggie replied in a monosyllable. Just because she was pretending to be on her death bed doesn’t mean she didn’t feel like she was on the death bed.
Miriam presented her mother with a pair of green sweatpants. “I brought these to help keep you warm, but it looks like you can wear them home.” Miriam looked down again.
“Miri, honey, do you understand what is going on?” Sam asked gently.
Miriam looked up at her father, “Yes,” she then turned to her mother, “I do. Mom’s coming home so she can go Home.”
------------
The nurse had retrieved a doctor. It was funny how, once Maggie mentioned she was going home, hospital or no hospital, she suddenly got a nurse without ringing the bell for an hour and got a doctor in minutes.
“Hello doctor,” Maggie said.
“Now, Mrs. Turner, you aren’t going home just yet.” the doctor in all his white lab coated glory.
Maggie instantly didn’t like him. He was one of those people who had some measure of legitimate authority who decided that their word was law and they merely needed to announce the state of the world as they see fit.
The snark that Miriam inherited without question emerged from Maggie’s lips.
“Yeah, I am. I’m leaving. I’m sick. You aren’t making me better. You’ve only made things worse. I am dying, according to your holy doctors, and I am going home to die.”
The doctor’s imperturbable face didn’t move. “Mrs. Turner. You are staying here. We are not giving up on you just yet.”
“Fuck that,” Miriam piped up.
“Miriam Joy Turner, what did you say?” Maggie reprimanded her with her voice and was secretly amused at her daughter’s profanity.
“Mom’s going home!” Miriam stamped her foot. She stamped her foot? Maggie hid a smile in a sort of fake coughing fit.
Sam drew himself to his full height. “You heard the mite. You heard my wife. We are packing her things and taking her home.”
The doctor’s face moved slightly. “She is not leaving.”
“Fuck you,” Maggie replied.