bobb

My situation is even worse. Besides, she's pregnant and needs to stay strong.

We talked it over and came to the conclusion that this was the best choice. We only bought one insurance plan, and she takes the meds. That way, people won't know she's Infected, and she can find normal jobs that pay better.

As for me...

Term life. One-time payout if the insured dies within one year...

The mother takes the medicine to ensure that the child is born safely, while you try to die within a year so they'll have the money to pay the bills and pay for treatment. That's your plan.

At this rate, though, I may not last six months... the thought occurred to me when I heard that you were working in the community.

Other people might not be willing to stamp the papers, considering how quickly my condition is deteriorating. And I thought, maybe I could last a little longer if you managed to get me some meds...

I didn't want to cause you trouble, so I stole someone else's pass...

Now you know. I've told you everything. Please, for heaven's sake... don't report me... please...

I was at a loss for words. Father and Mother decided which one of them had to die to ensure that their child would live. Was this truly something that couldn't be helped?

It was for people like them that I chose this profession. But what could I do, at the end of the day, other than pay for that box of medicine out of my own pocket?

I made a decision after a few days of wrestling with frustration and helplessness. With Julio's permission, I began sending out petitions.

Letter to the Department of Business, Tower Mountains, unread.

Letter to Senator Scott, read, no response.

Letter to Mr. Roland, reporter, read. Expressed his sympathies in his response, but hinted that such cases were not newsworthy.

Letter to <i>Trimounts Daily</i>, read, declined.

I opened my mail every day, only to be greeted with disappointment. After dozens of fruitless efforts, I finally got a response from the Maylander Foundation.

Julio's story got a small column in a charity pamphlet, roughly the size of a train ticket. That was the turning point.

Am I speaking to Mr. Eliseo? I'm an aide to Mr. Scott, who read your article and is very sympathetic to your friend's plight. He would like to offer his assistance.

The senator...? I believe I wrote to him before.

Ah... you must understand that Mr. Scott gets many requests from many sectors on a daily basis. I ask for your understanding if we were not timely in our response. But we're working toward the same goal now. All's well that ends well, right?

(Long exhale) Yes, indeed. What do I need to do?

Nothing except to provide us with your friend's contact information. We will reach out to him directly.

May I ask how Senator Scott intends to render assistance?

On television. Mr. Scott will be appearing on a show to talk about his charity projects.

This is Julio and Nadie's place.

Like many second-generation Bolívarian immigrants, Julio and his wife live in an old, run-down building, getting by on backbreaking labor for paltry wages.

But this night was different. The fate of this young couple was forever altered when an Originium boiler at their workplace exploded.

(Exaggerated) Oh, honey... you're Infected too! But we'll make it, I swear. We've got each other, and that's a lot, isn't it?

*cough* There was actually some good news that I wanted to tell you... now, though, I don't know if it's good news or bad news.

I'm pregnant.

Julio seemed to have forgotten his lines, staring blankly at Nadie for a while, before he broke down in tears. Nadie tried to console him, but soon burst into tears as well.

It did not seem scripted. The cameraman quickly zoomed in onto their faces, and the footage was broadcast to the whole country, after being carefully and masterfully edited.

A TV outside Senator Scott's office played the program on loop, as patient after patient acted out their pain for the camera.

They had to showcase their despair and helplessness to the public, so that some benevolent benefactor might descend from above, and extend a helping hand...

It wasn't my place to criticize. They received help, help that I was unable to render. And so, I paid a visit to Senator Scott's office.

You said your name was Eli...seo?

You contacted me about the article seeking help for Julio and Nadie.

Ah, you. What brings you in today, sir?

I watched the program that Julio was featured on. At the end, Mr. Scott promised to work with the community to reduce the burden on the Infected.

I happened to be involved in this issue in the community, and I've come to discuss cooperation.

Very good, very good... do you have an appointment?

No.

Then I'm afraid you'll have to come again another day. Mr. Scott's schedule is booked solid.

Eliseo, welcome back.

I wrote to request an appointment, but I did not get an answer.

As I've said before, Mr. Scott is a busy man, and he may not have time to read all the mail he gets.

That's why I've summarized my observations about the difficulties that the Infected face in this document. Can you pass it on to Mr. Scott?

Certainly.

Please tell him that I eagerly await his reply.

I will, Eliseo.

If it isn't Eliseo again. You've been here once a week these past few months.

All I can do for them is persevere. But Mr. Scott can do much more.

I agree. I will remind Mr. Scott to read the documents that you compiled. But he's out of office today, so I'm afraid you'll have to come again another time.

...I will.

You understand, don't you, Eliseo? A show can do a lot for Mr. Scott. But what does he have to gain from continuing to intervene? What can this community do for a senator?

Thanks for the explanation. I understand now... I won't bother you again.

This is why I came to your company.

Thank you for sharing this story, Eliseo. But you haven't answered why you came to Pure Heart Medical.

From my point of view, your last statement indicates that you saw the politician for who he is, and stopped wasting time on him.

Why turn to us, then? Is it because we were the only ones who answered you?

My friend got the help he needed thanks to a show. At the end of the day, though, nothing has changed for the Infected.

A whole family sharing a single person's prescription; patients who falsify blood tests to hide the progress of their condition; patients who choose to end their lives because of economic pressure and how other people look at them...

I can't prepare a show and find a benevolent sponsor for everyone...

I don't even know if my proposal works or not. If there's no one to open it, there's no one to criticize or approve it.

I came to seek cooperation.

Would things be different if there was a whole group of people sharing the same goal, rather than just one or two futilely trying to change things on their own? I want to give it a try.