The Variable

"Of all the outcomes you could have gotten..." Rosalind scolded in the empty void of your mind.

You floated in darkness, unaware of your surroundings. The only question in your mind was, “Am I dead?”

"Come off it sister," Robert chimed, "At least she's still alive." The female Lutece huffed again; her voice seemed to draw closer.

“Well that makes one of them.”

“One of…what? What’s going on?” You outstretched your arms and sprawled your fingers as you hopelessly grasped for something. You could feel two sets of eyes watching you.

“Oh. Look who’s waking up. Glad to see you’re still mentally with us.” The male red-head almost laughed, “Looks like you’ll have one more role before the show is over. Play it well. The audience hates a sad ending.”

“What? What’s going on?!” It felt as if your body was being shoved around in a current. You head spun and ached. Your legs felt like they had been hit several times over with a sledgehammer. You heart beat rapidly and it became harder to breathe.

Your eyes shoot open, the lights above you blur your vision. A voice calls out next to you, but it’s muffled. You flop your head to the side and try to focus on the figure next to you. But everything remains in a mess of colours and blurry shapes. A hand grabs your shoulder and you wince in agony.

“—iss...(name)…Oh wow you’re up…” the voice becomes clearer, “You alright?”

You scan over the figure a few times and finally recognize it as one of your co-workers from the nurses’ ward in the hospital. The nurse helps prop you up with a few pillows and you hiss a little in discomfort. You glance around and notice the crutch next to you.

“Sorry ‘bout that…Must be that nasty gash on ya right…” she pushed back the blankets and your hospital gown to reveal a track of stitches along the mauled remains of your scar and tattoo. You trail your fingers over the wound and scoff as the fiber prickles against your fingertips. You look down farther to see a cast on your right calf. You shuffle the blankets back over yourself and lean back a little. The nurse looks at you expectantly.

“What?” You ask and raise a brow.

“What happened up there? You were in Columbia when all Hell broke loose wern’cha?” She leans closer. You nod slowly and inhale sharply.

“Everything. Anarchists, self-proclaimed revolutionaries, gamblers…they all decided that they wanted to ruin the best place on Earth.”

The nurse’s eyes widen, “Wow…y’know after it all happened we had a huge group of people from Columbia in here. All the nurses here were hopin’ that you were gonna be there too. Y’know, to make sure ya didn’t die in the mess…and when ya weren’t…” she shakes her head, “but a week ago police found ya and a few others on the shore, most o’ the others were dead though…”

You blink a few times to let that sink in before speaking.

“There’s a man I was with…His name is Booker DeWitt…brown hair, green eyes, scar on his upper lip…did h—“

“Carol, patient 77 is bleeding again…” A doctor mentions as he quickly rushes past the two if you.

“On it.” Carol rises to her feet and rushes off as well. Leaving you alone in the outpatient ward. You sigh and steel yourself for whenever she was to return. You trace the stitches on your side again and lean back farther realizing that you’re lucky to be alive.

After a few moments, something stirs within you. With aching bones, you swing your weight over the bed and grab the crutch with one hand and the IV pole with the other. You carefully balance your weight and slowly hobble past the sheeted wall and into the main area.

Almost all the beds are full and you watch as nurses scurry about with various medical supplies. Patients groan from behind the makeshift walls and you feel your face drop. Is this all because of what happened in Columbia? You shake the thought away and keep limping towards the private rooms.

You pass nurses and doctors who insist that you return back to your bed, but you pay them no mind, you have a goal at hand. The driving force inside of you keeps pushing you farther and farther down the halls as you scan each closed door for something. What it is, you aren’t quite sure yet, but you’ll know when you see it.

Everything seems silent as you make your way down the pristine tiled floor. The only sound is the soft clinking of the IV drip against the pole and your slightly labored breaths. The cold tiles sting against your skin and you stop for a moment to rest. You lean against a wall and stare down the rest of the hall.

“I’ll…never get there…at this…rate…” You huff. Two sets of hands gingerly grab your shoulders and guide you into a seat. You thrash a little and look up to see the twins in “borrowed” lab coats and face masks.

“You’re right.” Rosalind mentions, “You’ll never get there at this rate.”

“I thought you weren’t one for intervening sister.” Robert turns his attention to his ‘twin’ as the female Lutece wheels you down the hall.

“No, I’m not. I’m just speeding up the inevitable process.” You smile to yourself as you hastily are transported through the ward.

The wheelchair stops in front of a room. You wheel closer to the door and look at the chart.

‘Patient 77: Male, late 30s, brown hair, green eyes, about 190+ lbs. …’ You do not care to read the rest.

“Do you want to do this?” The twins ask in unison. Your hand hovers over the doorknob as you debate whether or not to enter. As soon as you begin to pull away, you hear Booker cry out in sheer panic. Without thinking, you barge into the room.

You stare at Booker whom is restrained to the bed as he convulses and screams. Blood flows heavily from his nose, mouth, and ears. His form seems to faintly flicker like a film. The doctors all stare at you, but you ignore them and wheel yourself up to the bed.

“Booker…BOOKER!” You scream and shake his arm, but he keeps screaming, “BOOKER LISTEN TO ME.”

“Ca-can’t go back…can’t…no no no…”He whimpers with breathy gasps, “Not here…not there…smother…smother…” You move for the restraints and attempt to unbuckle them. The doctors grab you under your arms and hoist you back.

“NO!” you shriek and thrash out of the doctors’ grip. You lunge your weight forward and lean over the panicked Booker, “get yourself together!” You smack your palm hard against his cheek and surprisingly stop his convulsing. The doctors grab you again, this time with more force.

“Booker! Listen! You are not going back! You are not going back!” You struggle for a moment then feel a sharp object press into your arm. Suddenly you feel lightheaded and dizzy, colours and sounds mix into a haze, “B-ook-er…st-t-t-a-y…” your world goes black once more.

Falling…you remember falling. And the icy water as you plunged into the sea. Your paralyzed body floated atop the waves and onto the shore. You could barely keep your eyes open as you felt someone drag you from the water’s edge.

You remember hearing voices as they all spoke over your freezing form. You could hear the ambulance’s siren in the distance. Someone wrapped you in a blanket but you still felt numbingly cold.

You really were lucky to survive that fall with minimal injury. And yes, a shattered tibia and fibula was minor considering the drop.

It was over…You didn’t drown…You won…

“Always the fighter, aren’t you?” Carol coos as you come to, “Don’t know what’cha did, but your friend’s A-Okay.” You groan and look at the young nurse.

“Can I go home?” You mumble and sigh, “please?”

“Sorry dear. Doc says ya gotta rest here for at least another week.”

You groan louder, “Alright, well can I go see Booker?”

The nurse bites her lip nervously, “Sorry dear…he uh…ran off…last night…”

You grit your teeth, oh this is just perfect. You help a guy out and how does he repay you? He runs off!

“Bastard.” You hiss and turn your head away from Carol. She pats your arm and leaves you to your bitter thoughts.

The rest of the week passes slower than molasses in December. Carol visits occasionally to bring your meals or attempt to cheer you up, but it doesn’t work. You still cannot get over the fact that your partner would just up and leave you! But finally, you are released from the hospital with a new change of clothes and a set of crutches. You hobble out into the lobby to find your neighbor waiting for you.

“What are…how did you know I was here?” You made your way over to her.

“I uh…failed my job…” She giggles and begins leading you out to the trolley stop.

“What does that even mean?”

But your neighbor ignores you on the ride back home. You stare out the window to see that next to nothing has changed. Children still play out in the streets, wives hang laundry out on the lines, and husbands bustle about in their suits. The bakery still sells those sweet rolls, the birds are still singing, it’s a wonder how shut off Columbia was from everything. You sigh and lean slightly out the window, feeling the breeze through your hair. In the distance a boy hollers “COLUMBIA FALLS FROM THE SKIES! EXTRA! EXTRA! SURVIORS FOUND ON THE SHORES!” Cars drive by the electric railcar, a few pedestrians hop on and off at stops, and everything feels normal.

The trolley pulls up at the stop closest to the apartments and you neighbor helps you off. She cautiously guides you up the stairs and into the lobby where all of the other tenants are gathered. They all swarm you, asking various questions. You politely inform them that you will tell them everything tomorrow and that all you want is to sleep in your own bed.

You hobble up the stairs and to your apartment.

“I failed my job” The voice of your neighbor repeats in your mind.

“Wait a second.”

“Don’t worry about your room dear, I’ll make sure no more men come through your window”

You hastily unlock the door and all but stumble inside. Everything is still the same as you had left it.

A soft laugh passes you lips as you mumble, “I’m home.”

“Welcome back.” Booker steps out into the small foyer, “Sorry I had to leave on such short notice. But I’m here to stay now.”

Your hands fly up to your mouth and you stagger over to your partner. He pulls you into a light embrace and kisses the top of your head. Tears prick the corners of your eyes and you smile.

Out of all the possibilities. Despite every obstacle. It was all over now and the outcome was the most desirable variable possible.

--End