A Spaceman

Chapter 15--Children still won't listen

"You're going to give him the tube?" Sophie asks, as I decant the milk and protein mixture into bottles to carry up stairs to the Russian's clinic.

"Yes," I tell her.

"Why? You said yourself it would do more harm than good, that's just---gross," she says, wincing.

"Because the doctor asked me to," I say.

"But you don't have to do what he says, you say all the time what're they gonna do to you?" she says.

"Sophie, if I don't do it, he will, and he said himself he's never done one before. Insert the tube improperly, and it could wind up in the lung, and then Solokov will drown in the fluid. I can do it correctly, and at the very least will make it as humane as I can," I say.

"That's still gross," she says, shuddering.

"I know," I say, picking up the liquid, "Do you know how to start things for their dinner?"

"Yeah," she says, "I can follow your notes."

"I'll be down in a couple hours," I say, then I go upstairs. The place is like a bloody castle and it's not as though anyone gave me the grand tour when I was brought here. thankfully I do know Russian and can follow the signs for the clinic where they're keeping the unfortunate boy.

"In there, he's none too happy now that he's up," the old doctor says, slumped at his desk, "They have him restrained. Let me know if he needs to be shocked."

"Yes," I say, wondering why they think he needs shock bracelets. The boy could barely stand when I saw him. Even at my age, I could more than easily over power him.

I go inside the room. the boy is in a plain black t-shirt and shorts, and he's tied to a chair, the sort like dentists' use, with a headrest as well that he's secured to with a strap across his forehead. The tubing and pump are set by the chair unceremoniously.

"Hello, there," I say, stepping forward. As I get closer I see his hands, which are bound to the chair as well. they are bloody, covered in open sores, which ooze yellow pus and blood. on his arms there are dozens of self-harm scars, some old and faded such that now the skin is misshapen and lumpy from dozens upon dozens of horizontal slashes. His thighs aren't much better. "You're having a bad day eh?"

He doesn't speak but his blue eyes burn with rage. I kneel to set the pump up, filling the bag with the fluid. His fingers twitch but other wise he cannot move. The electrical straps are across his forehead, chest, lap, and hands. He'll be severely chastised if he resists this.

"I'm sure this has happened before, but I need to insert the tube down your nose, esophagus, and into your stomach," I say, holding it up, "We'll give you the drip over two hours. Afterwards you'll most likely have an upset stomach, as well bloating and cramping, because your body isn't used to eating. Do you have any questions?" I ask, even though I know he won't respond.

"All right, try not to move much, I know it's uncomfortable, but it's what we have to do to keep you okay," I say, moving towards him with the tube. Suddenly my hands are stopped, not fully, but it's as though I'm moving through a thick fluid or gel.

He winces, blood leading from his eyes and mouth, nose and ears.

"Shhh, no wonder they've got you trussed up like this," I say getting a cloth to wipe the blood away. It takes me a moment but I find one in one of the cabinets.

When I move to even clean him he still resists me, and again my movements are slow and exaggerated. He's a mutant. I've experienced the effects of their telekinesis a few times with the children I treated. I think I was supposed to report them or something like that. I don't know I never paid that much attention when they were telling me rules and things. Anyway it was always because the kids were frightened and I always told them not to do that sort of thing with strangers as they might get upset because they weren't supposed to, but it would be our secret and I was really there to help them. and after a little talk and some candy they let me draw blood or whatever I needed.