5 - Spin
5- Spin
Skyward Medical Center.
Tuesday - morning.
George became acquainted with Darius Arondack, a PR representative of the Civic Administration. He would rather have not met the prim, trim, dry-skinned man, but he was there the moment George was brought into the infirmary and stayed glued to his side every second after.
"This is a sensitive problem, you see," said the man. "People get very nervous about this sort of thing, power flickers and such. So I’m here to help you prepare for the press."
Help me prepare my butt! George thought. You’re here to stick your official bullhorn up my keester and speak my mind for me!
He got the need, understood why the Administration was worried. The power had only flickered for one one-thousandth of a second before the redundancies took over. Only peripheral functions, like the jogging track, were affected. George wasn’t the first person to ever fall, but there were overlapping safety nets (auto-fields, drones and the like) which normally stepped in. No one had ever fallen as far as George.
The doctor checked him over, listening to his heart rate (which was still thumppity-thummpity-thummpit-itty-thump!) and checking his vitals manually, while droids flitted over him, making deeper scans, and even affecting some corrections.
"I’m fine! I’m fine!" George swatted at the droids. "Sheesh, will you let me go already? I gotta get to work!"
The doctor scowled and started checking readouts from the droids.
Darius patted George’s shoulder. "Please humor us. The Civic Administration has the deepest concern for all citizens."
George sneered at the pale man. He didn’t like Darius, not from his pointy shoes to his sculpted silver hair. (Not grey with age. Silver.) "Oh yeah, deep concern, right. Yeah, I was just thinking about that, while I was plummeting to the deck after taking a swan-dive through my jogging track. You guys are swell! Now can I get to work before my boss gives me the axe?"
"Sir, we’ve made all arrangements with Mr. Sanderson. He sends you his regards and hopes for a speedy recovery. Now, if you please," and Darius actually bowed at the waist, "humor us. People are scared. The press are just outside, howling to know what happened. We’d like to make a public statement. We’ll explain the accident, how a fluke turn enabled you to fall past the safety fields, past the first response robots, but that none the less, you were safe from harm, and rescued in ample time. You won’t have to say much, just confirm what happened. It will do the populace good to hear it from you."
George bit back his first reply, mulled it over, then nudged the doc. "Hey, bub, I’m fine. Why don’t you go check over Comet. He’s real shaken up."
"Sir, I’m a physician, not a--"
George shot Darius a pointed glare. The PR Man cleared his throat and cut the doctor off. "Doctor, it seems clear that Mr. Munson is in good health. A rock-solid constitution, to bounce back so quickly from his ordeal. If you would please give us a moment?"
The doctor harrumphed, shrugged and left, his flock of droids following him out.
George gave Darius his best grin. "Okay, Darrie. I’ll play. What’s your spin?"