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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Sci-fi · #2069559
The town of Weistfeld need a miracle, but will they get it before anymore children die.

The Miracle of Life – and Death

     Pacing up and down that hall Carn kept looking back at door 311. Every time he passed it he would stop, try to look inside the covered windows. He could see glimpses of his daughter, Monikka, but what he saw most was the Medical Professional and her two Medical Assistants. When he did see Monikka she looked pretty bad hooked up to all those machines. She also appeared very pale and weak too.

     Medical Exam Room 311 stood at one end of that hall. It’s also by the Floor Transport Rooms. Just then the doors opened on one of those rooms, and another child exited it on an invisible floating table. They barely get out of the FTR when they are stopped. “He can’t be brought up here. This floor is for female children.”

     “There’s no room on the male children’s side of this floor,” said a Medical Assistant. She looked up that hall. “It’s even more crowded than this side is.”

     The Medical Assistant could see young female children lining both sides of the hall. Stacked one to three on top of each other. Most lay flat against the wall facing outward, but some were sticking out into the hall a little – or a lot. Pacing that hall was very difficult for Carn.

     Carn had his hands cupped around his eyes so he could see into Monikka’s room. He just started pacing again, but only took a few steps when Medical Professional Lanse came out of Monikka’s room. “You can come in to see your daughter now. We need to talk about her condition.”

     As Carn entered that room he looked defeated. Monikka appeared even worse. “What is the prognosis of Monikka?”

     “It’s not good,” answered Lanse. “She has what everyone other child, and oldster, has in Weistfeld. Only she’s worse than most of them. Monikka only has a few days left to live. I’m sorry to tell you this like I did, but there’s no easy way to tell a parent their child is about to die.”

     “She’s barely ten.” Carn had a lot of trouble speaking. His words cracked when he said them. “It’s only a few days before The Holiday of the year. Her favorite one. Is she going to die before The Holiday?”

     “I can’t answer that question,” said Lanse. “There’s no way to tell how long she will have. It’s different with each death.”


     “Carn hasn’t left Monikka’s side for the last couple of day,” said Medical Assistant Thain. “Even when we examined her he didn’t want to go. We practically had to drag him out of there to do it.”

     “Every time he left he saw another child brought in or die,” said Medical Assistant Beilla. “That isn’t the main reason he doesn’t want to leave her side, but all this death is getting to him.”

     “He’s not the only one,” remarked Lanse. “We have all been living here at The Medical Center ever since the children, and oldsters, started coming here – to die.”

     Lanse, Thain and Beilla sat at Medical Control Three monitoring all the children on that floor. At the moment they faced the female side, but when they heard an alarm go off Control sprung around to check it out. Each monitor not only showed every child there, but it also showed their vitals too. Lanse tapped a button under the vitals, and the alarm went silent.

     “How many children have we lost so far?” Thain asked.

     “Too many, but the actually count in the last seven months since the first death happened is seven hundred and forty-six. The death of oldsters is more than doubled that,” said Lanse.

     “The worst part is they still don’t know what is causing all of these deaths,” said Beilla. “The Cure Creators are sure they will find a cure, but they don’t think it’s going to happen anytime soon.”


     “It’s the day before the biggest holiday of the year, but no one in Weistfeld really wants to celebrate it this year. A few have put up decorations and gotten gifts for loved ones and friends, but most haven’t,” said an Announcer from the Media Monitor in Monikka’s room.

     “I’m sorry, father. I didn’t get you anything for The Holiday this year,” said Monikka.

     “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” said Carn. “The only gift I want is a miracle that will save you from dying.

     Carn sat in a Lounging Chair next to Monikka. He held her hand. Most of the time she slept. When she didn’t they talked about what they were going to do once she got well. Monikka was still alive – but just barely. Carn hated himself, but he could no longer look at Monikka. Monikka was practically just bones with skin on them now.


     The Lounging Chair Carn sat in could become a Sleeping Unit by just leaning back in it. That’s what Carn did, and he did fall asleep. When he woke up on the day of The Holiday it was to a Media Announcement. They had found a cure. Carn had got his miracle – sort of.

     “It was our own government who is responsible for all of these deaths. They needed to test a new disease, and they chose Weistfeld to test it in because it’s in the middle of nowhere with a thick layer of Trees surrounding them. Once The Cure Creators figured out what kind of death they were dealing with finding a cure for it wasn’t that hard to do.” The Announcer had a hard time talking about that. Everyone listening could hear it in his voice.

     For most of the dying The Cure came in time to save them, but not Monikka. She had died while Carn slept. “NOOOOO,” Carn shouted up at the ceiling. “I’m happy that thousands of children and oldsters got their miracle today of all days, but why wasn’t Monikka one of them?”
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