What the Fuck?
Chapter 16

Copyright© 2013 by Old Man with a Pen

David didn't panic because he couldn't. All those hoses insured that. The attendant did because she could. One second she was gawking perplexedly at the young doctor collapsing to the floor ... the MP standing with a smoking gun and slowly turning to peer at her through the room's glass window.

The next second she was in a huge bay with an open hatch the size of a football field. There was an odd collection of fully rigged sailboats looking woefully tiny for all their huge size ... for sailboats. That terrified her. She had a screaming fit.

David was in his hospital bed with it's assorted pumps, monitors, and drip bags. The electrical cords ended in mid air but all the attached paraphernalia seemed to work. Stevie Nicks (at 17), two other extremely beautiful girls and an awkward Ricky Nelson (about 12) were looking at her, the bed, David and a horizontal video screen.

"Oops!" exclaimed Stevie. "She wasn't supposed to come."

"Send her back," one of the girls said.

"Can't ... damnation! We're stuck with her," Stevie said.

Ricky leered.

She passed.

"She's cute." He said.

He morphed into Rick Nelson after his Army service in Germany. Although the change caused her a moment of discomfort, she was an avid Nick at Night fan and knew all of Nelson's reruns ... Ricky Nelson suited her to a Tee.

She stuttered, sniffed, choked a little. Ricky offered a glass of water and watched her drink it.

He handed her a kleenex and made sure she blew her nose.

Then he patted her on the back while she cleared her lungs. She folded herself into his loving embrace ... he took her like a Venus flytrap, Dionaea muscipula, seizes a fly.

Stevie grinned, 'My little brother just grew up.' "Nx 9637 ... diagnose patient please."

"Please refer to me by Captain David's designation," said the AI/ship/HAL.

"What did he call you?" Stevie asked.

"HAL," said the AI/ship/HAL.

"Any idea why HAL?" asked Stevie.

"Earth Science Fiction book and movie," as if that explained it all.

Evidently, it was good enough. "HAL ... diagnose patient please."

HAL performed assorted functions. "Subject is suffering from bodily shutdown due to trauma to the brain."

Stevie was perplexed, "How did this happen?"

"Over work ... too much sex ... fear of flying ... alterations to his planet ... how am I supposed to know? I wasn't there to see," said HAL.

"Fix it," Stevie suggested ... although it sounded like a command.

"You won't like it."

"Why not?"

"It's my professional opinion that the patient will recover given time. Pushing it will reroute synapses with unknown consequences. This will result in unused portions of the subject's brain to commence working."

 
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