It is early morning, in fact, so early that it might still be night, as tired novices walked through the corridors of the dorms. Their way led through a park lit only by streetlights and the bright white moon that loomed above. Late-night skinny dippers at the pond could witness the novices walking slowly past them; they peered in confused silence as the zombielike priests soon disappeared into the darkness again.
Some of those walking as if they had a goal had slept maybe an hour or two, if especially lucky.
Kanrel was one of the unlucky; he barely got any sleep, as even when he had put his notes to rest, they were still awake in his mind, and he couldn't help but go through them over and over again in his own head.
Now he had to pay for his mistakes and hope that repeatedly going through the same thing would be useful within the first day. But he could guess that reality would only be constructed from these two possibilities: Either he'd come overprepared for something that would be far too easy, or everything would be so out of his depth for him in the first place, making the sacrifice of sleep not worth it.
Reality would be a mixture of these two things; either way, he would blame himself for his own foolish choices.
Would, even then, it all be worth it? Probably not, but yes, either way. It had to be just in the name of the duty that was so important to him.
The novitiate gathered in a large flock at the large doors of the magnificent building that was the Academic Hospital. If only it were bright enough for them to appreciate it, even if only rationally. If only they could leave work much earlier than 8 p.m., then they could at least do that for the sake of the supposedly impressive beauty of the architecture of the building.
Kanrel had walked past it many times before, and so had the rest of them. Much like most of the academy, it too repeated the same gothic elements. Tall tracery windows that overlooked the courtyard on multiple floors of the building. Walls clad with complex engravings of geometric shapes as well as small overhangs.
As the doors finally opened, it was 4 a.m. sharp. And the flock poured into the building, giving no regard for the expensive craftsmanship that adorned the interior of the hospital—the pointed rib vaults in the ceiling, especially in the corridors. They had reached the reception area where Professor Forsvarn was waiting for them; she didn't look too happy as she had her hands crossed on her chest.
"You're all late," she blurted out her accusation.
A deafening silence answered her words as some novices nervously shifted from one foot to another, and some kept their heads solely down so as to avoid her accusatory gaze. Some knew that she was purposefully being unfair, but arguing with her was something no one could enjoy or win, if there even was such a thing as winning in an argument.
Then she suddenly burst into this weird cackle that was without any joy. "I am only kidding, of course. Go into your groups and follow suit."
So Kanrel found Yirn, Yviev, Uanna, and Wen, then they followed the other groups that had formed; their professor was quick with her steps, so they often had to run to keep up with her.
They went first up a flight of stairs, then through a corridor that had several rooms on both sides. The rooms seemed to be either private rooms for richer patients or office spaces for doctors. Then they went up another flight of stairs, and as they reached a walkway that overlooked a large room, a strange stench attacked Kanrel's nostrils. A medicinal stink mixed with possibly alcohol and the stench of sickness.
The hall-like room was filled with hospital beds; between them, there were no walls, just cloth that was used as dividers. Some beds were occupied with patients in different conditions, varying from individuals who were sick with a common cold, and others who had limbs wrapped in white cloth due to fractures or wounds. Nurses and doctors moved in between the beds and the dividers, moving patients to or from beds, checking their condition, or applying a salve to a patient.
"This, the room that you can all now see below us, is where most patients are first brought. Here, they will all be diagnosed and treated if possible; depending on the diagnoses, they can be moved to different wings of the hospital."
"Each wing has its own job; for example, one wing deals with disease, another with broken bones and fractures."
"We won't spend another minute here, unless one of you happens to find themselves in one of those beds," she said and gestured downward. "Then you can only pray to the Angels that I might have some mercy upon you."
She then continued on her way, and the novices followed; they went past the large room and descended multiple flights of stairs until they must have been underground in a dimly lit corridor. They passed multiple doors until they reached the one at the end of the hallway. They went through it, and on the other side was another large room. It was rather stark when compared to the rest of the hospital; it was cold and damp.
There were just about a hundred chairs, and all sides of it except one had eight doors; only the side from which they came had just the one. There was also a bed at the center of the room; it seemed to be rigged to a strange contraption from which a lamp-looking thing extended and hung over the bed.
"And this is our simulation complex," she declared after reaching the bed.
"Behind all of those doors, there is a simple-looking bed, much like this one, on which one of you will lie at a time; after using the correct code on the bed, there will be some changes that will happen in the person who is lying on the bed," she vaguely gestured at the doors.
"The 'patient' will get a random ailment, and the rest of your team will, in turns or together, diagnose the patient; after which, you may put your diagnoses to the test and try healing the issue the patient might or might not have."
"All patients will only feel the symptoms of their given issue; they may not speak; in fact, when they try to speak, their words will be formed into screams. Screams will, of course, remain as screams," she smirked, but quickly returned to her earlier solemn expression.
"None of this will be life-threatening, as far as we know, but I would still advise caution since each time a used healing method either fails or is just simply incorrect, the patient will feel pain."
"The instructions regarding the bed will be written in a booklet. Read through it properly and enact the code carefully. The contraption itself will collect data on all things said within the room, so I would advise the one diagnosing and healing to explain what they are doing and why. Failing to do so will be noted, and my colleagues supervising the simulations will be notified; they will then come find me, and nag me, and I don't like being bothered."
She peered at her students and faked a smile. "I've always thought that this invention of mine would've better suited for those who work at the House of Truths; they love complicated torture devices!"
"I would certainly love showing you all how to do everything, but alas, I haven't the time. Real work calls me, and I don't yet have the time for people playing doctor. Besides, I'm sure you can figure things out for yourselves!" she excused herself and slammed the door shut behind her.
The moment she left, the room of many chairs and students burst into an ensemble of many voices. 'Can't she really just show how to operate it, at least once?' 'I will definitely be writing a complaint to the Grand Priest... this is a travesty!'
Kanrel shook his head. Lots of whining and questioning of their professor, even calling her names... He and the rest of his team went around and picked a suitable simulation room for themselves. And soon, the rest of the groups wound up doing the same; the noise mellowed down as more and more groups entered their little rooms.
The room was small; there were a few chairs and a bed with a similar contraption as the one in the earlier room; there was a desk that had a booklet on it, a pile of empty pages, and ten or so pens and ink readily available. There was also a light that came from the ceiling; Kanrel knew that it worked with electricity, a newer invention, though one known as a complicated game of trying not to shock oneself to death.
Kanrel took the booklet and read the code. It was by far the most complicated code he had ever read; there were so many parts to it that it was unlikely for a novice like himself to cast it alone. So he passed it around to the others; they would have to cast it together.
Kanrel studied the bed; he wondered if it had more of a function than just being an object that was easy to use in coding. He found nothing that would indicate otherwise.
"Who wants to go first?" Kanrel asked after a while, turning around to look at them again; the others had already taken a seat for each of them as they studied the piece of code.
Yviev visibly perked up, she lifted her hand and announced, "I would like to nominate Kanrel to take 'one for the team,' a phrase most suitable for the given circumstance!"
The others didn't seem too keen on suggesting or nominating otherwise.
Kanrel let out a long sigh and muttered to himself, "This is just great."
Without much more hesitation, he lay on the bed and waited patiently for the four of them to cast their magic on him and the bed. The bed was probably considerably more comfortable than the bed in his own room, but that was difficult for him to confirm or deny.
But if they took long enough, he might actually fall asleep, which could become his last resting place. What a blessing!
Meanwhile, the other four went through the code together. Yviev gave directions to each one of them, pointing out which part they could activate and in what sequence they should activate it. Doing it too late or too early, the code would not activate. Kanrel wondered if such a code would always have to be 'woven' together, or if he'd be able to, one day, do it all by himself?
Kanrel got lots of time to look at the lamp-like contraption that loomed over him. He questioned its purpose, for there didn't seem to be much to it, just some metal and not even one of those electric lights that lit the room.
The others gathered around him and began. Kanrel peered at each of them, studying their focused expressions. He could see how the difficult codes affected them: the droplets of sweat that trickled down their faces, the disgust that mixed in with the focus, and the moment when they were done, how the disgust almost transformed the faces of his peers.
But nothing happened. Had they failed? Should he get up from the bed? He tried to get up, but for some reason, he couldn't move an inch. He could only blink in surprise, and when he tried to speak, only a groan departed his lips. The code had worked.
Yirn, Yviev, Uanna and Wen looked at one another, then Yviev grinned and announced, "Oh, the mighty Son of the Herald is now under my command; what secrets might he tell us to regain control of his body and to make the pain go away?" she had stepped closer, making it clear that she'd be the first to try.
"Yviev, that's heresy!" Uanna hissed; she seemed horrified at the thought.
Was she one of those zealots who believed the Herald of the Gods, and even their offspring, to be almost as divine as the Angels?
Yviev scoffed in what seemed to be a mockery of her friend's remarks, as if the thing that Uanna had said had been a joke. She then began concentrating on Kanrel. "He isn't screaming in pain yet... Did we somehow fuck up the code?" She asked and looked at Yirn, who was reading through the instructions, basically learning how to activate a torture device for the sake of learning medicine.
He cleared his throat. "It says here that you have to touch the forehead of the patient for the simulation to begin."
Yviev grimaced. "So I have to touch this creep?" she complained as if disgusted, or perhaps she actually was disgusted. Kanrel couldn't really tell.
"Yviev!" Uanna hissed at her. Kanrel could see as Yviev imitated her while making faces.
He just blinked at the sight and came to another realization: this girl, this supposed friend, this face-making individual, would be basically torturing him, starting from the moment that she touched his forehead.
No, the torture had already begun, for he couldn't even let out a sigh to protest this unjust turn of events, or call Yviev names for the sake of equality.
Yviev approached him; she then placed her delicate hand on his forehead, and in an instant, he started to tremble, and soon he screamed at the top of his lungs, trying to yell, 'STOP! STOP! STOP!' Over and over again, but all that came out were just his screams.
The trembling stopped, but the pain remained. Yviev had rapidly taken her hand away from his forehead. Uanna stepped back with a horrified expression. She grabbed Wen's hand, who grabbed her in turn, making sure that she would watch whatever was about to unfold. Yirn had his notebook already open, with furrowed brows, he studied Kanrel, and readied his pen to write whatever came to mind. None of them yet knew what was wrong with him.
Kanrel didn't know either, but he could feel it and where the issue was, and oh, the Angels, it hurt like hell. The pain crawled in his stomach. Not a word would come from his mouth, and he couldn't move or really do anything other than just stare and witness as she tried to figure out what was wrong with him.
All was now in Yviev's hand, and there was nothing Kanrel could do to help her or to help himself; he no longer could form thoughts, only screams as pain pulsed within.