Culture Clash

I sit in my kitchen staring into the fridge looking for something I need to order. I have requested the Pirate Girl as my driver since the day her and her friend brought me such joy while doing my shopping. InstaCart here has a policy not to expose the name of the drivers and Shopper 042021 was too impersonal, so she is Pirate Girl even after I learned her name was Molly and her friend is Lilly. The two are sisters from the same father but different mothers.

The pair bring a smile to my face each time they drop something by. When I order, I always keep a kind of treat in mind for the two, so they have something to look forward to as well. They too have not accepted my real name since that day. I am now forever and always going to be “The Captain.”

I have tried repeatedly to reach out to the NAU Audit Manager 23 and the son of a bitch never replies back. The messages I send are friendly. I invite him over for a weekend, I ask if he has family back home, I ask him questions about himself and always nothing. Not a peep. I have a doctor's appointment today and this is the first appointment, the one where you have to show up early. I had been given an onboarding packet with the services I am authorized to use, the NAU supplied us with a pretty much bulletproof identity here, which is of course how I bought a house with 23’s help.

Before this I would just pop back home for a doctor visit and the powers that be would make a prescription available here. Not this time. My allergy meds have run out and the pharmacy is telling me that they can’t reach my doctor to get refills. This world is so backward. I need to talk to one of these sawbones before I will get the medicine that I need to just feel better. They might not agree with my other doctor and chose not to refill the prescription. There are hundreds of reasons I don’t want to be in the health system here, but the top of that list is that the government in this reality is corrupt and they allow lobbyists to push through policy over the general health and interests of the populace.

The opioid epidemic in this reality is beyond outrageous. Even when the government here is taking a stance against it, there isn’t much that they can do to reverse the damage that has taken place over greed. There are people out there that are addicted to a substance that was pushed onto them, it is all the governments fault, and they are not at all held accountable.

I attempt to clear my head and just stay calm. The list of things that worry me has grown by leaps and bounds. My reports are brief and often have questions laced throughout. I want to go home. I now have to go and see a caveman about my physical health and a part of me is terrified that they will want bloodwork and they might see things that cause issues. I have a very different vaccine in my blood, I’m not a medical major in any way, so I have no idea if that may be seen and afterward they want to run tests on me to see why I am so different.

I do not want to end up a lab rat in this pit.

I miss home.

My phone chimes that my Lyft to the doctor is here, my text message alerts are also from AOL. The familiar watery sounding mp3 gives me a sense of stability and of the familiar. Even if I am about to get locked into a car with one of these plague monkeys for something like 20 minutes, and then exposed to sick people in the hospital or clinic, I still have something that will keep me centered and focused on a time that wasn’t as bad.

When I exit my house I see the driver in an old toyota. She isn’t wearing a mask. She is smoking in the car, with the windows up and she is screwing around on her phone while she waits for me to get in. I start toward the car, affixing my mask as I walk. When she sees me walking down the sidewalk she rolls down all the windows and puts down her phone. There is that at least, I suppose.

“Are you Fred?” She asks.

“Yup,” I reply in a quip and attempt to open the door.

It’s locked. She and I now play a game of “okay one more time” as we attempt to coordinate with one another and the automatic lock. Once the door can finally be opened and I get in for the trip, she starts up with the “nice to meet you” routine that thousands of drivers on Lyft and Uber pull all the time.

“Where are you headed today?” She asks, beginning the polite question barrage.

“The doctor,” I reply, knowing the next steps of the dance and just wanting to ride in peace.

“Oh. I hope it’s nothing serious,"came the obvious reply.

“Nothing serious. The air here is shit and I can’t really breathe without an inhaler and claritin,” I state flatly.

“You aren’t from here?” She asks.

“Nope. I’m from out of town. I’m just here for a research study,”

“A study? Oh what about?” She asks, dodging the reply about the shit air.

“I am here to watch a primitive culture collapse around a deficient subspecies of humanity, all while they actively ignore the problems that are glaringly obvious and world changing,” I try my best to look bored and unapproachable while saying it. She doesn’t seem to notice.

“Well, I am going back to school myself. I am going into marine biology,” She says.

“Oh that’ll be helpful,” I say feigning interest.

“I really like animals. I always loved the sea while I was going up. My folks would take us to the beach when I was growing up. I have three sisters, all of us get the beach itch. My sister Tori, she lives in California in this city called Ventura, when I go for visits I always make a beach run within the first two days. Tori will call out of work and then we would head over to splash around and bronze up,” She says, clearly excited.

I nod and smile here and there. “I haven’t gone to the beach or eaten seafood since I read about the Fukushima nuclear disaster,” I say.

“But that was all the way in Japan. That shouldn’t impact us here in the states,” She said, and I could see her eyes in the rearview, plainly annoyed that I would think otherwise.

“I can really tell you enjoy the ocean. Perhaps you should read up on tides, currents, and migration, it might be really enlightening,” I offer.

What did I expect in a reality where evolution is still being debated? The rest of the trip was silent, which was a blessing. I didn’t need Tori’s sister here jawing the entire trip. I watched the landscape of New Jersey flash by as the driver took me to my appointment.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

When we pull up she is still silent and the moment I close the door she takes off. I suppose hearing that your desired life path may be dying isn’t how she wanted to spend her day. I can understand that, but what do they expect when they choose to ignore the issues plaguing their world? The planet is dying around them for fuckssake.

As I walk up to the hospital the automated doors slide open to allow me entry. The entryway has two sets of doors and an air curtain to keep the weather outside. We have similar back home, making this a good sign in my book.

Maybe they won’t try leeches and bloodletting.

As I sit in the waiting room I wonder how many of these people would not be wearing a mask if it wasn’t required. I just counted exposed noses and assumed they would be the same number. That was three.

The magazines were all from months past and frankly I would rather not touch anything in this office. I flip through my smartphone attempting to find something to take my attention from the situation that I find myself in. That prick 23 reminded me of our restrictions. I was an idiot to use my real name. It’s not like these chimps are going to ID me when I create an account.

I remade all of my social media accounts and installed them on an unlocked cell that I bought here. This one is completely off book from the university, something I could get into a lot of trouble for, if anyone finds out and if I ever get home. The risk/reward aspects of this situation were basically, “Are they going to break my knees? No? Then fuck ‘em.”

I had searched out a few friends and family here before I had to close out the accounts. James was one of those I searched out. There was a little bit of a problem on that end, because the high school we attended doesn’t exist here. When I search just his name and his family name, I see no faces that are familiar. This has been the problem with most of my high school friends.

I scroll through hits for another search, this search being Alfred Eli Newman. The man once told me that the name was inspired by the character in Mad Magazine. This made searching for the fellow a little more frustrating than with most anyone else.

“Fred Alginon.” The woman at the desk calls.

I raise my hand and start toward the door. The nurse holding my file on a clipboard was standing beside the open door. Her nose is poking out of her mask. She is wearing coke bottle glasses and her hair looks oily. I can tell she is smiling under her mask, I use the mask as an excuse not to smile in return.

“Hello sir, if you would follow me please,” She says in a pleasant tone.

“Hello,” I reply weakly. I cannot help but stare at the ketchup stain on her scrubs top.

“Now if you would please set down your things and step up onto the scale,” She directed me to set down my purse on a nearby empty desk.

“I’m fourteen stone,” I mumble, stepping onto the scale.

“Well that’s two hundred pounds here. Where are you from?” The woman asks.

“The North,” I reply.

“Canada?”

“Yeah. Thereabouts,”

She gives me a strange face.

“I watch a great deal of Doctor Who,” I bluff.

She straightens up her mask and gives me a smile. “My husband really likes that show. I just can’t get into it. Like, who is The Doctor, the man with the scarf or the guy with the granddaughter?”

“Yes. They both are,” I answer. “He is an alien that doesn’t really die, he regenerates into another version of themself when they have a death like event,” I explain.

“Huh. Well that just sounds weird. Stand here please,” She directs.

“And you are five foot nine,” She then directs me to step down. “Okay, go ahead and grab your things and follow me,”

I follow her down a short hall and into room four. The room was small, much like those back home. The floors are about the same as any typical examination room. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad.

“If you would go ahead and take off your jacket and roll up your sleeve, I’ll get your blood pressure and pulse,” She instructs and wraps a cuff around my arm.

So far so good. As she pumped the bulb the cuff tightens and she places a stethoscope to my arm. She checks her watch. Back home a machine does that bit. That, or this place has obsolete equipment in a world with archaic…

“Alright. Now, what brings you in today?” She asks, breaking my train of thought.

“I have allergies and the poor air quality from California burning to a cinder is making it hard to breathe,” I reply in a deadpan manner.

“Oh isn’t that terrible? I grew up in California. It breaks my heart to hear that Paradise was burned right off the map.” She says, suddenly wanting to connect with me.

“Yeah it’s terrible,” I say monotone.

“Alright, well I will tell the doctor you are ready and they will be with you in a few minutes.” She says after jotting down a quick note.

I nod and start scrolling through my search hits again.

As I wait I turn on my chess app and start running through a few games. I miss playing the game in real face to face matches, but a computer is good for a quick fix. I am three games in when there is a knock at the door.

“I’m decent,” I call out.

In walks my doctor, she looks at me and flashes an obviously practised smile. “Hello there! My name is Dr. Anastasia Wright and you are Fred Alginon?”

“Al-gin-non,” I correct.

“Alginon, sorry. And what brings you in today Mr. Alginon? I see that you are having trouble breathing?”

“Yes. I have chronic bronchitis but my regular doctor seems to be unreachable at the moment, thus I am sent to your office,” I answer.

“Oh I see. There is a lot of sickness going around, I hope your doctor is alright,” She says and sets down the clipboard.

“Can you hop up on the table for me?” She instructs, with a question.

I jump up and untuck my shirt tails watching her arm herself with the stethoscope, rubbing it against her coat sleeve.

The probe touches my skin and I twitch at the frosty metal.

“Breathing in deep,” She continues to instruct.

I do.

“Again,”

I do.

“Okay. Well yeah, it sounds like you need an inhaler and probably some Claritin. I’ll write you a prescription for the inhaler and you can get the Claritin over the counter. You might not need the inhaler after allergy season but I’ll give you three refills just in case. I think a check up in three months will be best. Do you have any questions?” She says in a flurry. The brevity felt like my doctor back home.

“Nothing that I can think of,” I tell her, picking up my phone.

“Alright, well I will send in Flo to make that appointment and I will see you in three months.” She finishes up and walks out the door as fast as possible. Honestly I think that last word was said through the closed door.

I keep scrolling through the search results as Flo walks in.

“Okay, the doctor wants to see you back in…” She begins and stops while looking at my cell screen.

I clear my throat and turn off my screen.

“Yes, she wants to see me in three months. Anything else?” I ask curtly.

She looks ashamed for a moment, blushing.

“Sorry. I saw one of my ex boyfriends on your screen. It just caught me by surprise. It’s not everyday something like that happens,”

I turn on the screen and let her see it again.

“Which one?” I ask.

She taps my screen and low and behold, it was him. Al Newman, but I would know that face anywhere. That was Alfred.