Chapter 3: National Health Service
Now, I’ve always been a bit of a control freak, something that was true throughout my entire career in finance. Proud investors and managers called me a detail oriented person, while my detractors called me a micromanager or other, even less polite words. It was a great boon, truthfully, once I finally made CEO and kicked off my star studded career in securities fraud; when your entire income revolved around a massive ponzi scheme that had to be dressed up to look like something more respectable, details mattered a lot. Papers had to be kept in order even where the contents were entirely fictional; telling investors, employees and regulators a story that was both false and believable, ensuring that nothing stuck out enough for someone to get curious. I was very good at this, the fact that scheme only unravelled due to broader geopolitical trends was proof of this.
That said, it wasn’t always good to be detail oriented. Sometimes, when I had a lot of questions and not enough information, I had a tendency to spiral, endlessly fixated on the few tidbits I knew while my mind invented ever more elaborate scenarios leading me toward disaster. Just to be clear, this wasn’t a good thing, especially not when I had a headache. Thankfully, such fits of doom never lasted for too long, because in a busy world, someone would also come along and interrupt my self-destructive impulses sooner or later. Back in my past life, it’d be one of my employees, or more rarely a customer. On this particular occasion? It was the doctor.
[Amelia Dawn - Level 3 Healer]
I wasn’t joking about how children were prized. The Kingdom knew that any of them could win the power lottery when they turned eighteen, and every living, healthy and loyal child of the nation was another spin of the wheel. Free healthcare was available for every Child; and it was good healthcare, no five year waiting lists like back in England. Not for me, of course, I never needed anything serious before my thirties, and had private doctors on retainer from then on, but the point I’m emphasising is that I now had for free what would have cost a pretty penny in my past life. For another week, at least.
“Good, you’re awake,” Amelia spoke, hurrying over to my bedside. “Does it still hurt anywhere?”
“My head,” I whispered, wincing as the act of speech caused yet another spike of pain, and my throat to burn as well.
Frankly, I was already handling things better than the norm; Will had never tasted alcohol before in his life, and would likely have vomited all over the bed without my newfound experience with hangovers. Thankfully, salvation was already on hand. Literally, as Amelia placed her glowing green hand on my forehead. It was wonderful, better than any prescription painkiller I’d ever tired; and I’d tried a lot of them in my fifties: arthritis was not fun to deal with.
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My headache disappeared in seconds, fading from sharp pain to dull throbbing before even that vanished from my perception. My throat, too, received healing, going from burning and raw to a slight itch, while my stomach finally settled down, taking my remaining nausea with it.
“Better now?”
“Much better,” I rasped, because my throat was still dry, even if it was no longer sore.
“Wonderful!” Amelia crooned, in an exaggerated, over the top cheer that I suspected to be the result of specialised training. “Are you up to taking a meal by yourself? I can feed you if not.”
I might have taken her up on that offer, were the circumstances slightly different. Amelia was not unpleasant to look at, with her curly black hair and ocean blue eyes, complemented by a neat black blouse, but no. I had been many things across two lives, but I was not and would never be an invalid. Forcing my torso upright, I reached back to reposition my pillow to accommodate a sitting posture and leaned back to meet Amelia’s gaze.
“Wonderful work, Will! I’ll let a nurse know to bring you your lunch, just stay and rest until it arrives; if you feel any more pain, just send me a message, alright?”
[Amelia Dawn wants to connect.
Y/N?]
Without even waiting for my response, she was up and out of the room in seconds. Absently, I noted that even in a fantasy world, healthcare workers were still overburdened and short of time. I couldn’t blame her though; I already felt good enough that I’d be tempted to ask for early discharge, if not for the promise of a meal first. What can I say? It doesn’t matter how much money you wind up with, free food is free food.
While I waited for my first meal in a lifetime, I turned my thoughts to what Amelia had inadvertently revealed. Every time I saw something unique to my new life, memories slotted into place seamlessly as if they’d always been there. Which, given Will’s backstory, I suppose it had. Names and levels were displayed on sight; a useful method for identification and a boon for me in particular; I’d never been good with names. On the other hand, identity fraud was made that much harder; not impossible, I was sure, but it would require an item to spoof the indicator, something I suspected would be far harder to acquire than fake documents.
The Contacts lists and message functions were far better news; while I could remember a time before smartphones, my last years had acclimated me to constant access to information and having everyone I knew just a button away. I’d yet to find an equivalent to the internet, true, but every little bit of familiarity helped make adjusting to this new life just a tiny bit easier. Mentally, I selected ‘Y’.
[Amelia Dawn added to contacts.]
Curious, I willed my status page to display, and sure enough, I now had a contact.
[Will Swindell
Level 17 Child
Foundation Building: One Level received for every full year lived. Child class evolves at Level 18.
Contacts
Amelia Dawn - Level 3 Healer]
It was actually my first; I was never close enough to anyone at the orphanage to acquire any others, which suited me just fine. After all, in just one week’s time, I’d be receiving my Class, and my trajectory in life would take me far away from there. Any further pondering was interrupted by the telltale sound of footsteps. Sure enough, the nurse was here; and more importantly, lunch!