Remedy 07

01

I was, and still am, vastly driven by my own passion, even when everything seems to plot against me. Oftentimes I get this off my mind and relax by heading to the local inn, I like to accompany a good friend of mine there, who works as a bartender every now and then.

In which, I have many things l'd like to avoid, and I sometimes just so desperately need to avoid them. This so called "passion" just may be the end of me.
I wear my infamous coat and head outside, though I am yet to care to grab an umbrella despite the rainy weather. I often go out at nights like these and whistle along with the wind.

And just like that, l grabbed my coat from the coat rack and left, locking the door behind me and sliding the key back under the door, my mother usually gets the hint.

Upon my coat come the soft sounds of raindrops, and from the edges more droplets formed and fell, dripping because their sole purpose was to add onto the rest of the droplets—somewhat useless, just like me; a droplet of water in the rain, a cog in the machine, nothing more. And that's all that had become of my cure, as much as I try to deny it, I know it is true.

The rain gave off a relaxing scent that pleased my senses. There is something about a rain-washed pathway that calms me. However, it was interrupted by the speaking and glass tapping coming from the bar.

A strong scent of brandy and wine rushed into my nose as I entered, fastening my pace towards the bar table. Taking a seat, the bartender seems to perk up at my arrival, "My man!" He exclaims as he cleans a wine glass, "It's been a while since you've come around, how's the cure?"

"It's nearly done, I just hope the rest goes well." I sighed, not wanting to talk about it any longer.

Well, I did come here to forget about it anyway.

"You know, I talked to my grandad the other day, and he said he would lend me his radio station!" He laid his elbows on the bar table, leaning towards me.

"It's always been my dream to be a radio host, as I've always watched my grandfather talk away for years now. He even tells me I've got the voice for it too!"

By the time my eyelids started lowering, I stopped listening. I simply watched how his mask moved as he went on about how he's planning to be on radio broadcasts—if he's still talking about that.

"Anthony, that sounds wonderful," I laid my head on my palm, "Do you think you could advertise the vaccine for me when the time comes?"

"Of course! Anything for you," He mused, pouring me a glass of wine, my usual.

Minutes that felt like hours would pass, I merely watched my friend clean cups and make cocktails. He was passionate about what he did. Sometimes I wished I shared even a quarter of the passion that loudly resonates from him.

I look behind me out of curiosity, but then I stiffened upon hearing a familiar voice, Erick. I haven't spoken to him to an extent, at least not ever since the last time I worked with him in the laboratory; we had a mere disagreement.

I watched him attempt to approach me from a distance, easily spotting him by his dark, slicked-back hair and confident posture.

"Dean," He chimed in, taking a seat next to me.

"Foster," I blankly said.

"Foster? I thought we were on a first-name basis."
Erick chuckled.

"Much I care," I replied as I went on to refill my glass.

"Listen," He began, "why don't we increase the price for the vaccine? They'll go to an extreme extent to pay for a drop of that vaccination." He went on with that same disagreement we had before.

"I suppose you forgot we are making it affordable to save civilization," I protested with boredom, pouring wine into my glass.

Erick sighs and slouches low on his stool, avoiding eye contact.

"We've been trying to get ahold of a high-paying drug company for years," he stammered.

"We are saving the rest of the world, not become a lowly company." I insisted sternly, looking down at his slouched form. I felt more alert than I was before.
Erick laughs.

"If the rest of the world had voiced the same concerns, we would have gotten more than a few letters," he says, "I think we can get this done."

"I doubt we'd even need the vaccine, we can profit out of the placebo medicine. " he continued, ignoring my statement, "Or perhaps your pride is preventing you from admitting, for you want to top over me, correct?" He slams his fist on the bar table, clanking the empty cups together.

"Bold of you to assume my deeds are just as bad as yours," my fingers twitched around the glass of wine.

Fueling his anger with my words, I took a long sip of my wine, "Or perhaps you can't help your selfishness?" | teased, mimicking him.

"Selfish, you say?" Erick inquired, "I reckon you are only creating the vaccine for your privileged sister, it doesn't make you any less selfish, does it?"

His eyes gleamed with pride at my blank face, for l had not yet recovered from my horrid fear of my young sister's death. With an effort, I managed to restrain myself from striking him.

"You can't justify your greed with my family's safety."

"You're being too sensitive, Dean."

"It's for the greater good of mankind." I remained
stubborn for the sake of my ideology.

He keeps his mouth shut from any further remarks, furrowing his eyebrows at me.

"We will contemplate this tomorrow at the laboratory." I ordered, fidgeting roughly with the hem of my dress shirt.

He skeptically narrowed his eyes. He seemed to be contemplating something, "Sure."

I carried myself off the stool and tipped the bartender. I made my way out of the bar, fixing my tie, very well acknowledging that the rain had stopped, and paced back home.