Game Boy

22 - Consult

"How are you doing today?" 

Kenneth stared down at his hands and scowled at the tone of the bot's overly cheery voice. It seemed the consultation bots and the meal delivery bots had the same vocabulator, or at least the same voice program. Happy, with no room for anything else. His fingers twisted together and he peeked up at the chair opposite him, now occupied by his mother.

Her thin lips were twisted into another one of those wicked smiles. She didn't care. I know that much. She's just putting up a front because we're probably being filmed right now, and she doesn't want them to know how horrible she really is.

He gripped his hands together and looked down again, his leg swinging mildly against the side of the bed. He didn't want to cough into the silent air, but he could feel the pain welling up into his chest.

"I'm doing alright," his mother said. He tried not to flinch at the sickly sweet tone.

The bots servo motors whirred and Kenneth watched it's shadow turn his way on the floor.

"How about you?"

He lifted his head an inch or so, just to peer up at it through his stringy curls. Parting chapped lips, Kenneth coughed lightly. "I'm okay," he lied. His eyes cut to his mother briefly and then snapped away when she caught his gaze.

Tightening his fisted up hands in his lap, he ducked his dead down more and faked a cough to cover it up. Deep down, his chest burned slightly and he ignored the pain. It wouldn't go away until this was all over. I hope, at least. Just push through. 

"Glad to hear it! I will now proceed with the require consultation material. Kenneth Dekker, your charts show that you will require a gain of at least ten pounds before undergoing the operation. Your dietary intake will be upped for this purpose. If this cannot be achieved by choice, are you willing to subject yourself to a feeding tube?"

Kenneth bowed his head and nodded. It might be easier, all things considered. He glanced down at the spot where the half-full tray had sat an hour or two earlier. They'd already taken it and he could still feel the disappointment the bots had reeked of as they removed all the wasted food. He couldn't eat it. 

His fingers dug into his own skin. I'm not that strong...I'm sorry.

"Thank you! Mrs. Dekker, do you have any questions about the operation?"

Glancing up at his mother, Kenneth watched her lift her head, scratching under her chin as she gazed around the room.

"I don't believe I do. I only want to make sure my son will be healthy. Will you be using synthetic lungs, or a living transplant? And what's the lifespan of a synthetic pair of lungs?"

Trying not to gag at her sickly sweet tone, Kenneth hunched his shoulders forward and coughed. He wheezed through the respirator. Those were good questions, but did they have to come from her? Plus, what did it matter? If he got ten years or fifty it would at least be time he could be up and out of the hospital away from her. Time he was free. He'd take any amount.

It doesn't matter, just get this over with already. Gritting his teeth mildly, Kenneth coughed to the side and his grip loosened a little as he pressed a hand to his chest. His fingers trembled in the fabric. He needed out of this room. His eyes skimmed the floor, but he didn't move, frozen where he was. Just a few more moments and it would be over, right? Ten minutes. He could wait ten minutes.

Just...count the seconds. Something. Anything.

"We will be providing synthetic lungs as they are our cheapest option and possess a longer life span than living lungs. There will also be low risk of rejection," the bot droned. The spinning of it's gears drowned out any other sound in the room and Kenneth swung his leg a little harder, trying to work up the energy to move.