Kade | Psychiatrics | Cal, Mara
Kade arrived at the medical center that he swore he’d never return to. Bellflower. He hadn’t wanted to be back, and he really couldn’t give a good reason as to why he was, let alone entering another year of this godforsaken competition. He’d entered once before, made it through the entire competition until the final round, where he learned they’d selected specific candidates with the intention of sending them through trials for something they’d called Project Xavias X91. It was a research experiment designed to give doctors special abilities against their will and without their knowledge, supposedly for the good of the people. He found it unethical and sick, and dropped out of the program despite being the leading doctor when he found out what they were doing to him. It didn’t reverse the effects, but it did prevent him from experiencing whatever side effects came with continued treatment. His life had been ruined by Xavias, and a part of him was back to find out why.
It was early in the morning, too early to have any thoughts in his brain. Kade was something of a morning person, something of a night owl, but this ungodly hour was too much for even him. The tension was immediate, and the coffee was gone within minutes. He didn’t bother bringing a cell phone, because he knew it would be taken from him anyway.
“Good morning.” The voice is calm. Not warm, not cold, but controlled. He would recognize it anywhere. Dr. Mara Kessler, the woman who ruined his life.
“You’re here because you were among the top applicants in your region, your program, or your institution. That is not a small achievement. It is also not enough. This hospital does not accept residents, it selects clinicians. We do not train potential—we refine performance under pressure until there is no difference between instinct and skill. Over the next several weeks, you will be evaluated continuously. Not at the end of the day. Not after exams. Continuously. There will be no off-hours in the way you understand them. There will be fatigue. There will be uncertainty. There will be moments where you will be asked to make decisions with incomplete information, limited time, and competing consequences, and you will make them anyway.” His mind flashed back to the last time he sat in this room, to the experiences that he’d had, to the memories which he couldn’t distinguish between truth and reality.
“Some of you are used to being the best in your cohort. Some of you are used to being told you are exceptional. I am going to correct that expectation early. You are all competent. That is why you are here. But competence is the baseline. Not the qualification.”
She flips the screen to demonstrate a list of competencies, the words ‘execution under impaired conditions’ outlined in red at the bottom. “This is the variable most of you have not been tested against at scale. Sleep deprivation. Moral conflict. Time pressure. Emotional interference. Physical exhaustion. In this program, mistakes are not theoretical. They are observable. And they are not always recoverable. You will be ranked on the ones you make, and the ones you don’t. Publicly. At the end of this process, a small number of you will receive placement in this hospital’s residency and fellowship pipeline. The rest will not. No appeals. No re-evaluation. No exceptions. This is not because we are uninterested in your effort. It is because patient outcomes do not wait for potential to become performance. You will be watched by attending physicians, fellows, consultants, and external evaluators. You will also be watched by each other. Because medicine is not practiced alone in a vacuum. It is practiced in rooms where someone else may notice what you miss. If at any point you decide this is not for you, you are free to leave. Your badge will be deactivated. Your file will be marked as incomplete participation.”
Then, with no added softness or pretenses, three simple words. “Orientation is complete.”
—
Kade took a deep breath, quelling the rage that sat heavy in his chest. He had been here before, he had experienced exactly what he was going through. Before everything, before his entire life had changed. None of the people around him had any idea that, in most respects, to be removed from the program was a blessing. If he had it his way, he would have never experienced this in the first place.
He was assigned a badge, blue with a gold edge. Everyone else had white, and there was the faintest stain of bloody fingerprints on the back. The photo wasn’t the one he had taken yesterday, it showed a younger Kade, one that was hopeful and full of promise. Now frantic, he looked around to find where the badge distributors had gone, to see what kind of sick joke was being pulled on him. He found the four solid walls of the auditorium and an open doorway, where competitors were shuffling into lines to receive their baseline written assessment. It was a fast-paced exam, but Kade knew this hospital like the back of his hand. Slipping into the crowd, he used his badge to gain access to one dreary hallway after another, until he found himself in the elevator on the way up to Mara’s suite. When he got there, she smirked, like she’d been expecting him.
“Dr. Stowe, good to have you back.”
“Why do you still have this, and why don’t I have a white badge like the rest of them?”
“White badges are for unknown quantities. You are not unknown.” Then, “You left the program, Dr. Stowe. You were not erased from it. You were part of something beyond standard candidacy the moment you accepted the injection.”
“Don’t say that like I knew what you were turning us into. I was a doctor, not one of your lab rats.”
“No, Dr. Stowe. You were a physician presented with the opportunity to become more effective than medicine currently permits. And you’ve returned to continue, so unless you have ulterior motives to confess to, I suggest you return to the exam hall before the other candidates realize you’re something to fear. Give my best to Dr. Eko too, will you? I imagine it’s no coincidence the two of you show up here together looking for a second chance.”
“You really hear ‘ethical concern’ and translate it to weakness, don’t you? Unbelievable.” The other words didn’t register until he was halfway down the hallway, and they didn’t sink in until his pale gaze was transfixed on a familiar dark-haired figure. He was exiting the exam with the rest of the students, while Kade had been prompted to complete his in the hallway so as not to serve as a disruption to the other students. Cal’s badge was white, just like everyone else’s. Only Kade’s stood out.
Pulling the other figure into an empty supply closet before he could cause a scene, Kade watched Calloway’s expression go from fearful to resistant to surprised to compliant when he saw the familiar figure and what he was doing. Kade didn’t have long, so he started speaking immediately.
“What the hell are you doing here,” Kade asked, “what happened to you after I left?”
Sunny
