Undisclosed 
 

      The doctor didn’t know if he should go through with the procedure.  He was getting sick of his job.  Deceiving the patients – lying to them day to day – was not his idea of amusement.  At least they never have to face the agony of finding out.

      It was almost ten o’clock when the doctor entered the small office.  He found the patient already lying on the stretcher strapped with wires.  The entire room was small and surrounded with dark see-through mirrors.  There were no windows but the florescent light bulbs brightened the room.

      “Good morning,” greeted the doctor.

      “Hey,” responded the patient.

      The doctor looked down at his clipboard.

      “Hmm… Alright.  So it looks like you’re in for just a check up.  It must be tough coming here just after the court hearing.”

      The doctor grabbed his stethoscope and put it against the patient’s firm chest.  He was silent for a few seconds as he heard the beat coming out of the scope.

      “Alright, the pulse seems fine. Could you stretch your arm out?”

      The patient followed the doctor’s orders and the doctor proceeded to wrap the nylon inflatable device around the patient’s muscular arms.  He began pumping.  After twenty-three years of workings as a doctor, this simple and routine part of the checkup still brought him enjoyment.  He began checking the stats of the patient.

      “Hey doc, could you tell me what’s up with this random checkup?  I feel fine.  Seriously.”

      “It’s just a routine checkup.  We want to make sure everyone leaves this place with good health.”

      “I was stuck in the hole for three years and I’m almost free.  You must realize that am completely sick of this place.  I already had enough of this place.  I really want to get out of here.”

      The patient grasped the sides of the stretcher and pushed himself up.

      “Sir…you can’t just go, this checkup is mandatory by law.  We want to ensure all previous convicts leave with good health.

      “Why is this stuff mandatory?  Shouldn’t I be free to leave since I’ve been proven innocent?  Why am I still being pushed around here?  I thought I was acquitted.”

      The doctor noticed the patient’s pulse go up but he knew it was nothing more than his sudden burst of rage.  The doctor was used to these kinds of reactions.  They were normal.

      “Hey, I’m sorry if you’re not liking this.  I’m just doing my job.  Don’t worry this shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

      The patient gave a heavy sigh.  He knew he was defeated.  There was no use in trying to leave.  The guards were waiting outside and would no doubt stop him.

      “What’s this stuff you’re stickin’ on to me?”

      “Its just some sensors.”

      “What about these wires? This is the most unusual checkup I’ve ever had.”

      “We’re just really up to date here.”

      The doctor flicked on the machine behind the patient.  The wires that were attached to the patient ran down the ground to a cubic metal box.  An electric hazard-warning label was affixed on the side.  A status monitor degaussed as it was turned on.

      “Well, what do you plan to do now… now that the trial is finished?”

      “I don’t know.  I would think that I would have figured this out by now.  I spent so much time in that little room.  All that wasted time that I’ll never get back because of some jackass….  But yeah…I guess I’ll just do the usual thing.  You know – go find a new job and a new home.  It’s gonna be hard though.”

      “You have to admit, though, that you didn’t have it so bad over here.  You automatically got a job, got food, got clothes, and got a room to sleep in.  Sure, it might get boring but that’s the price you have to pay. I sometimes wonder why we even do anything productive if we can just do something stupid and land in here.”

      “Are you saying that I did something stupid?  You don’t know the half of it.  Didn’t you follow the trials? Sure it was a close call, but the jury was eventually on my side.”

      “Sir… calm down.  I didn’t mean to imply that you were stupid.

      “Heh…well what’s taking so long?  I can’t stand this place anymore.  I’m starting to wish I was dead.”

      “The longer we argue the more painful and longer this will take.  Just wait a few more minutes.  The system is almost up and running.  This latest technology comes with a cost.  In this case the cost is time.”

      The patient reclined his head and looked up at the ceiling.  He stared at the fluorescent light bulbs and heard the quiet fans revolving behind him.

      The doctor sat on a stool by the status monitor.  He had nothing else to do but wait.  In an attempt to make himself look busy, he began stacking papers.  On the desk there was an overstuffed binder filled with papers that looked like they were on the verge of falling out. The doctor took out a pen from his overcoat and put it down on the desk.  He grabbed the binder, carefully took off the rubber band, and opened the cover.  He turned the binder over and leafed through to the very last page.  A loose page flew out.  Despite the doctor’s diligent efforts to grab the floating page, he missed and lost his balance.  The page landed near the patient.

      The patient saw the paper and began to bend down to reach for it.  The doctor’s eyes peered down.  His pupils became dilated.

      “Hey, don’t move…I mean don’t worry,” the doctor said. “I’ll get it.”

      The doctor frantically moved toward the floor but noticed that the patient had already grabbed the paper.  The doctor swung toward the paper in hopes of grabbing it before the patient could figure out what was on it.

      “Whoa!” the patient said as he managed to swipe the paper away.  “I was going to hand you the paper. What the heck?”

      “Please hand over the paper.”

      “Well you seem incredibly anxious to get the paper.  There must be something very important on here.”

      “Sir, that is classified information. Please hand it to me right now or I’ll have no choice but to order some guards to secure you.”

      The patient ignored the doctor and analyzed the paper.  There was some writing including a description of a person – brown hair, brown eyes, five feet ten inches – and some kind of identification number.   A few bold words, colored in red, stood out at the end of the paper.  Undisclosed Execution. 3:30 PM, 11/30. Exam Room 205.  The doctor grabbed the paper out of his hand.

      “What’s an execution notice doing in a pile of doctor documents? Are you both an executioner and a doctor?”

      “I’m sorry, sir, but I am not allowed to disclose that information.  I mean, this is a prison, and there are all kinds of papers relating all different kinds of things here.  Don’t worry you only have around five minutes left.”

      “What is this machine that is attached to me anyhow? I have never heard or saw anything like it in my life.  You have got me wired as if I were on life support.”

      “Um…it’s a scanner.  It shoots out electron pulses…just think of it as a modern day x-ray machine.”

      The doctor made a quick mark on the document and put it back in his binder.

      “I have to get a vaccine,” the doctor said as he headed out the door.  “I’ll be right back.”

      The patient knew something wasn’t right.  Today was the 30^th of November.  There were no clocks in the room, but he remembered that it was past noon when he entered the building.  Perhaps it was almost 3:30 and the doctor was probably off to execute whoever was on the paper.  Interestingly the man on the document seemed to fit the patient’s profile.

      The patient looked toward the status monitor in an attempt to see what it said.  It was too far away and he could only make out a few fuzzy numbers and some sort of line graph.  The attached wires made it impossible for him to move more than a foot away.  The patient examined the stretcher.  He saw two metal cuffs that could be used to secure the wrists in place.  There were also cuffs near his feet but fortunately they were disconnected.

      The wires were only attached with some adhesive.  The patient grabbed the wires and yanked them off along with pieces of chest hair.  He almost yelped because of the pain.  He contemplated walking out of the room but he knew that would do little good as the entire place was surrounded with guards.

      Despite the earlier incident with the classified information, the doctor left his binder on his desk.  The patient walked toward the desk and opened the binder.  He turned to the last page – the page that had flown out before.  He noticed that the guy with ID 30845 was about to be dead.  For a moment he froze.  It was at first unbelievable.  He looked down on his shirt where his ID was imprinted to make sure.  It was a match.

      He thought it must have been a mistake; he was acquitted.  He skimmed the paper again.  There was a section describing a trial.  It mentioned his name.  The ruling determined that he was guilty.  There must have been a documentation mistake, a terrible mix up.  The patient didn’t have a clue what to do next.  He was trapped.  The doctor could come any minute.  Surely the doctor would bring along some personnel to guard him from escaping.  There were no windows in the room.  No passage to escape from.  The patient wondered if he could convince the doctor that the document was wrong.   After all, the doctor said that this was only a checkup.  The patient was soon convinced, however, that he was in a life and death situation.  It was obvious why that the doctor didn’t want him to see the paper.

      The patient realized that the only exit was the door.  It was a risky exit, but he realized that he had no other choice.  He grabbed his shirt and picked up the binder and took it with him.  He walked to the door and knew that it was now or never.  He debated as to whether he should walk out quickly and came to the conclusion that it would cause too much attention.  If he went slowly then maybe the guards wouldn’t notice him.  His best bet was to open the door quietly and if the guards didn’t notice him, proceed as quietly as he could.

      The patient grabbed the doorknob, turned it slowly, and carefully opened the door.  The door creaked.  Right across the other side of the door the doctor appeared.  Both of their eyes met with astonishment.  He was too late.

      “What is my I.D. number doing on that execution document? Is it a mistake?” the patient anxiously questioned.

      “Don’t be ridiculous. Come back in.”

      “I’m not going back in until you explain to me what is really happening.”

      The doctor didn’t say a word and the patient attempted to move past the doctor but the doctor blocked him.

      “Let me go!”

      “No.  Sir…please don’t move or else...”

      The patient pushed the doctor out of the way and the binder flew out of his hands.  He ran down the hallway.

      “Guards!!!” the doctor yelled.

      Bang. The bullet passed through the patient’s skull. Bang. Another passed through his chest.  The patient fell to the ground.  His leg twitched once, but he was obviously dead.

      “How could I have possibly forgotten to take the binder? I won’t forget next time.”