Two days later
Medicine Pocket: Hey, Mesmer Jr.!
Medicine Pocket is urgently knocking on her door.
Medicine Pocket: I heard you guys scrapped an old circulation machine! You have to—
Rehab Center Staff Member: Ms. Mesmer Jr. isn't in today. She's on leave.
Medicine Pocket: Huh?
They scratch their head. They would sooner believe that Manus Vindictae had occupied the LSCC.
Medicine Pocket: Leave? Mesmer Jr.? You're messing with me.
Rehab Center Staff Member: Why would I do that?
Medicine Pocket: Fine, I'll come back tomorrow.
Medicine Pocket's disgruntled footsteps pace past the closed door.
But Mesmer Jr. is too busy rummaging through a box to hear them. It's marked "For Destruction."
Mesmer Jr.: Here.
She pulls out a floppy disk. These serve as the initial backup for the artificial somnambulism device used to experiment with memory storage technology.
The faded label on the floppy disk reads "Dorothea."
Mesmer Jr.: This must be the one you wanted me to see.
Attaching the magnetic patch to her head, she lies down and closes her eyes.
This is the first time she has initiated artificial somnambulism on herself.
"Reading floppy disk. Please keep your eyes closed, and do not interrupt the process."
"Read successfully."
*beep-beep-beep—*
Father: Haha! Happy birthday, Dorothea! Alright, time to make a wish! What does our little genius want to do when she's all grown up?
Dorothea: Um, I wish to be an athlete or an astronaut, and I want to travel the world and see everything!
Dorothea: Oh, and-and I also want a pony! And a pool big enough to hold a whale!
The candles burn as her list of wishes goes on and on. The adults' expressions grow awkward.
Even the puppy is anxiously pacing under the table.
Mother: Darling, I think that's quite enough.
Dorothea: No, no, I'm not done yet! After buying a theme park, I want to give all the children across the world a long holiday so we can ...
The man chuckles, patting his wife on the shoulder.
Father: Let her speak. I think our little genius has a lot to wish for.
Mesmer Jr. stands at a distance, watching.
Mesmer Jr.: You had a lot of unrealistic dreams, Dorothea.
Dorothea: No, no, sis, it wasn't your fault. You did everything you could.
Her distraught sister squats down, dirtying her nurse's uniform.
Sister: You don't understand, Dotty. I can't take it anymore. I can't bear to look into those children's longing eyes.
Sister: How can I keep doing this? How long can I keep lying? Telling them that everything will be alright?
Sister: Yesterday, I kicked another stone across the ground. When I kicked it into the corner, you know what happened? It bounced right back—right off all the other stones I've piled up there.
Sister: There's so much beyond my control. It's breaking me, Dotty. I can't bear it anymore.
Sister: I'm going home to rest for a while. Maybe do something else, you know—something that keeps me closer to family.
Dorothea puts her hand on her back, sharing her burden.
Dorothea: No matter what, I'm always here for you, sis.
She hugs her sister, the medical school badge clutched tightly in her hand.
This isn't the first resignation that Mesmer Jr. has seen. In fact, this scene is rather common.
Mesmer Jr.: Coward.
Dorothea: If you intravenously inject 40 milligrams of dopamine solution for every 60 milliliters, to maintain the appropriate rate, the intravenous injection speed should be ...
Dorothea: huff I'm coming, LSCC.
She's surrounded by books, utterly engrossed in her studies.
She's alone.
Phone Voicemail: Hey, kid, you doing okay? Your Uncle Benjamin's getting married tomorrow. I hope you can make it. Your dad's about to explode over the voicemail you left. Call him back soon.
Phone Voicemail: Uh, this is Mark from the hospital, remember? You gave me your number. I found a great restaurant. If you're free, I mean, if you're interested, give me a call back.
Phone Voicemail: beep—beep—
Her books are like a wall, blocking one voicemail after another until the beeping sounds.
Mesmer Jr.: This was a fork in the road of her life. She made a choice.
Mesmer Jr.: Next.
She sees her graduation, the bare winter trees, and her classmates posing for photos.
She sees her being scolded by the head nurse for smelling like cigarettes.
She sees her announcing a family member's death for the first time and how she ran to the bathroom afterwards and sobbed uncontrollably.
A family trip, a ball, a funeral, a prayer.
Struggles and joys, anesthesia and defibrillators ...
Mesmer Jr.: This is starting to feel like a waste of time.
Mesmer Jr.: Alright, Dorothea, that's enough.
Her hand approaches her forehead.
All she has to do is press the magnetic patch, and the somnambulism will end.
Mesmer Jr.: Hm?
In the darkness, a figure stands in the distance.
But the silhouette neither approaches nor moves away. It just stands there like a statue.
Dorothea: You've grown up, Junior.
Mesmer Jr.: inhale
Her hands tremble.
But only for a moment.
Mesmer Jr.: Goodbye.
Mesmer Jr.: sigh
Mesmer Jr.: Looks like this will be our last meeting, Dorothea. According to protocol, these files will be destroyed next.
She tosses the floppy disk back into the box and checks the time.
Mesmer Jr.: Three minutes and four seconds longer than expected.
Mesmer Jr.: Still within controllable limits. The Mesmer family agent will arrive in three hours and four minutes. If he's on time, that is.
She stands up, straightens her clothes, and closes the door.
It's as if she is leaving the funeral of a stranger.
