Noology (5 page)

“How could a place as mystical and
magical as this be tinged with such sadness? In the face of such natural
beauty, how couldn’t one stop to enjoy rather than carrying out the most disturbing
act of defeat?”

As I am swallowed by a morbid reverence
for the horrific ends to which competition can drive man, dark spots begin to
enter my vision. They toy with my sight and project wonderful silhouettes
across the pearly moon. My body begins to tense and suspends my ability to
control it. I release all thoughts from my mind and drift into a pleasant
sleep.

Piercing white light accosts me as I roll
over on the firm mattress. My clothing has been replaced by a paper hospital gown.
Strange, I think. Where am I?

I open my eyes and see the source of the
sharp light: a fluorescent bulb hangs overhead. At that moment I realize I am
in the hospital for some ridiculous reason. A nurse enters the cramped room,
rustling papers as she thumbs through my medical file.

“Good, you’re up. Gave your poor friend
quite a shock you did.”

What friend? Where was I last? Let’s see,
the last thing I remember was falling asleep on the rooftop. Tate was there.

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing much,” the nurse replied. “You
just got dehydrated and feinted. Did you take any drugs?”

“I took caffenitrate a few days ago.”

“That’ll do it. Honey, it is really
important when you take stimulants that you make sure to drink enough water and
eat enough food. Sometimes the extra energy they provide masks your body’s
natural signals, and people can go days without remembering to eat. They boost
your metabolism and speed everything up, so you need to consume even more water
to keep yourself from getting ill.”

I have heard that in the 21
^st
century, adults tried to prevent adolescents and students from taking narcotics
by passing laws prohibiting usage. Today, performance-enhancing pharmaceuticals
are accepted and even encouraged as a necessary tool for achieving academic
success. Doctors of all tiers instill these values in their children, and
instances of hospitalization for side effects are simply accepted. Alcohol and
other compounds proven to stunt mental growth and damage brain functionality
have been banished from Certet however, and possession of these substances is
considered grounds for exile.

The nurse interrupts my mental soliloquy,
questioning whether I have been taking my government-issue supplements. Each
individual is forced by law to ingest a daily cocktail of vitamins and minerals
determined to provide the nutrients absent from the majority’s pitiful diet. If
one doesn’t take these wretched chalky pills, the hospital can ascertain this
fact from checking the patient’s bloodstream the next time he or she comes in
for medical treatment. Some people are denied medical care because of this
negligence. Just one more way that the governing body has manipulated the
system to blackmail its citizens into compliance with the law.

“I have missed a few days.”

“You must always remember to take them.
No exceptions,” she chastises.
 

I mutter a clumsy thank you as she leaves
the room. Moments later Tate charges through the door, tripping over the
doctor’s stool as pauses to collect himself. He smoothes the front of his shirt
with his palms and comes to the bedside.

“You frightened me Avelyn. One minute I
was talking to you, the next you are out cold. I rushed you to the hospital as
soon as possible. I didn’t know what else to do.” He runs a shaking hand
through his cropped brown hair and breathes methodically in time with my own
lungs.

I roll my eyes, waiting for his trademark
grin but it never surfaces. He continues to stare with an unreadable look on
his face.

“The nurse says I’m fine. When she comes
back, I’ll ask about leaving. How long have I been here?” Panic begins to bloom
in my chest as I realize how many lectures I have missed; how much reading I
need to catch up on; how many of my peers have leaped ahead of me in my
classes. Bile rises in my throat, but I press it down, refusing to be sick in
front of Tate.

“Only one day, so relax. I can help you
catch up in neurology. We didn’t cover much. I am just so glad you are going to
be okay.” There it is again. That indecipherable expression.

The nurse comes bustling back into the
room. “Okay lover-boy, scoot. Avelyn, I have your discharge papers so you are
free to go. Don’t forget your supplements!”

I slowly make my way to the door on
shaking legs, and just as I am exiting, they buckle. I begin falling, but am
caught at the last second by Tate.

“I thought you left.”

“Of course not,” he robustly replies.
“Here let me help you.”

We half-walk, half-stumble the rest of
the way back to Crusty Hall. Normally I detest the pungent smells and oily
smears ever-present within its walls, but today they comfort me. The
cleanliness and sterility of the hospital has always rattled me, thus it feels
good to be home. It’s like slipping back into the glass slipper that cradles me
in its familiar embrace. Starving, I head for the kitchen and steel myself
against the paltry meal I will have to settle for.

My head is pounding. With every
earth-shattering throb, I cringe and hug the worn sheets tighter to my body.
Trying to rise from my humble bed, the world begins to spin haphazardly and I
experience pseudo-vertigo. Every molecule of my being implores me to return to
my bed, but I must attend my classes despite my hospitalization yesterday.
Shrugging off my grimy clothes, I hesitantly pull a faded sweater over my head
and contort my body to stick my arms through the looping sleeves. A quick
glance in the mirror confirms my suspicions: I look dreadful. Solid purple
rings circle my bloodshot eyes and my hair has become a tangled bird’s nest. I
thrust my aching feet into matte black boots riddled with scuffmarks and holes.

As I open the door and drag myself along
the bowed walls papered with ribbons of torn floral scenery, I struggle to
overcome the nausea threatening to express its displeasure with my movements.
Finally reaching the kitchen, I slump into the nearest corroded metal chair and
rest against its back.

“Think fast,” Tate declares as an
overripe apple sails past my face. I don’t even stoop to pick it up off the
floor. He crosses the room, bends to grab the apple, and deposits it securely
in my open right hand. “Someone’s still groggy. Haven’t bounced back from our
hospital visit yet, have we?”

“I wish. My head is hammering on my
temples, and my body refuses to listen to reason and cooperate with my agenda.
I have to go to class today, though. We are covering the intricacies of
removing intestinal parasites today.” Much as this subject matter sounds
disturbing, it is in fact crucial to our society since the collapse of the old
system. The lack of access to suitable food and water has had detrimental
effects on the bodies of every man, woman, and child in Certet. Still, the
government subscribes to a strict dogma of treatment rather than prevention.
   

“What scintillating breakfast
conversation,” Tate exclaims. “Which is it today, tapeworms…pinworms…”

“Shut up.” I bite into the bruised apple,
severing its wrinkled epidermis. Rather than a reassuring crunch characteristic
of crispness, I am rewarded instead with a lackluster slurp as the soft fruit
puckers under my tongue. I grimace, but continue to chew as I disembark down
the hallway and out of the dorm.

Tate follows quietly in my wake, and
together we begin the short journey to the university campus. The medical
school lies between the dormitory and the brightly lit hospital complex. As we
walk in contented silence, the wind whips my hair across my face and neck. I
pull it back in a tight ponytail to prevent more lashings, and brace myself
against the cold fingers of air ripping at my clothes. My mind wanders; the
steady beat of my footsteps on the gravel providing a canvas for my absurd
fantasies.

 
A short while later, we reach the imposing oak doors to the university
administration building. The campus has maintained a semblance of order and
regality, but the frayed edges are beginning to show. There is no electricity
to power the facility, and thus much of the technological advancements of the
past have been disregarded in favor of an archaic reliance on the primitive pen
and paper.

“See you later,” I declare, waving a
frigid hand in a gesture of friendship as Tate turns in the direction of his
lecture hall. Heading the opposite way, I scurry off to my own class. Entering
the dim classroom, I sneak into a damp chair far from the stage. Seconds later,
Nirvana emerges and drops into the open seat to my right. We exchange a quick
greeting while the professor steps up to the stocky podium and leaves a stack
of lecture notes teetering on its edge. He clears his throat with a guttural
cough.

“Today we will discuss how to treat a
variety of intestinal parasites,” he drones in a nasal register. “It is crucial
to always kill the organisms with appropriate pharmaceuticals administered in
correct doses. If the parasite persists untreated, the patient will become
emaciated and weak with a distended stomach and terrible pains.

“Now, there are two major types of intestinal
parasites: helminths and protozoa. Helminths are…” I scribble each word on my
dog-eared notepad, trying frantically to keep up with the spoken material while
futilely attempting to ignore the spasms in my fingers.

After six hours of lecture for three
classes, I am ready to retire to my room for the day. I decide to take a detour
on my way back to the dormitory building and walk to the back of the campus
instead. As I approach my destination, a visible radiance pervades the air and
my nostrils fill with a sickly sweet odor.

I pass between the horizontal wooden
slats of an oval pasture and head towards the large sand-colored building at
the far end.

“Hey Avelyn!” comes the amicable call of
Bryn. “You want to see the new baby?”

“Of course!” I have trouble disguising my
enthusiasm. We step through the barn towards the last stall on the right; a
tiny box containing heaps of straw, a trough of gelatinous matter, and two
magnificent animals (one large, the other small).

If it is not already apparent, Bryn is
the sole stable boy in charge of a fleet of marvelous creatures. As humanity
continued to produce at an alarming pace, the toxic byproducts also replicated
exponentially. Eventually, a new breed of monster evolved to consume this
hazardous waste and subsist on the dangerous chemicals. For Certet, these
beings have removed all concern regarding how to dispose of the multitude of
noxious compounds generated by the pharmaceutical manufacturing plant. Perhaps
if the beasts had evolved earlier, the old 21
^st
century system would
have avoided such severe implosion.

Sairns, as they are named, mirror the
sturdy bone structure of horses, but with key distinctions. They stand
approximately seven feet from toe to whither, walking on splayed flesh pads
rather than solid hooves. Olive skin stretches taught over a skeletal form that
causes many to brand these brutes as hell’s gatekeepers. As a consequence of their
often radioactive diets, sairns typically emit a slight glow that for many is
an unsettling marker of their alien nature. To process such toxic foods, sairns
have developed an intricate digestive system similar to the chambered nautilus.
Spiral filters grace both of the animal’s sides, leaving intermittent exposed
holes that curve along its belly. As hazardous material passes through the gut,
it is treated with airborne gasses that enter through these openings and the
unusable byproducts are secreted through glands in the sairn’s skin. Much like sweat,
this saccharine compound forms beads on the animal’s body that are the golden
hue of fresh honey. Sairns bathe frequently to cleanse themselves of the gummy
residue, thus there is a vast pool constructed on the east perimeter of the
enclosure.

Sairn heads are also highly
differentiated from their four-legged counterparts. They have preserved the
characteristic long-face reminiscent of horses, but sairn noses taper to a
point with a snout much like that of the ancient ant-eater that curls into a
compact whorl akin to the ones on their flanks. This highly sensitive, but
protected proboscis allows the sairn to suck up noxious chemicals without
exposing the rest of the animals sense-collecting organs to its lethal waves.
Sairns rely on pointed feline ears for auditory information, and lack the
stringy mane and tail of their aesthetic relatives. Much like humans, sairns
have unique eyes with each individual expressing a combination of genetic and
environmental factors in their iris color.

Some of these wild creatures have become
beasts of burden, serving Certet as emergency transport for people in dire need
of assistance. Much like the ambulances of the past, sairns are employed to
carry injured or sick patients to and from the hospital. A few are kept in
various locations for this explicit purpose. The university has an abnormally
large number of sairns under its care because frequent suicides or attempts
require provisions for immediate transportation of students should any such
tragedy befall them. Intense academic pressures also cause students to neglect
their basic bodily needs and experiment with performance-enhancing drugs, thus
illness and side effects must also be treated in a timely manner.