How do you cure a non-biological disease? This week you will be able to read the conclusion of the story which started HERE and was rewritten HERE
Please enjoy, and don’t forget to provide feedback, should you have any.
I don’t hold out much hope of recovery. I think there is a good chance it’s already too late for this quarter; that it is no boil at all but a cancer, and one that has eaten too deep. Certainly, it can not be cut out. Or, indeed, perhaps I am no more effective than the spiritual healers of my homeland, whose trade survives on fabricated tales, on coincidence and serendipitous recoveries. My studies were never so nebulous. I pledged to first do no harm, and then to balance risk and benefit.
If I do nothing, or if I talk but take no action, the plague will one day come to me. That violates the first principle. If I unleash my rage against the perpetrators – once I have located them, of course – I risk damaging the host while strengthening the disease, in the same way that a drinker simply absorbs his first bottle with no noticeable effect. And this without even mentioning the inevitable retribution against myself, which would make a second dose impossible.
With both inaction and direct action out of the picture, what remained to me for my decision? For fifteen years now, I have patched, repaired, cleaned, and replaced. I come here as often as I can – mostly once a week, though sometimes my work keeps me away longer. So, why do I do it?
I do it because I haven’t given up; I do it because I can. I do it because this is the only thing I can think of to do. But there is also one unspoken reason, a reason that keeps me awake in the few hours I have to sleep – I do it because, deep within, I know that this is my life now. Even in my dreams, paint drips from the walls, and glass plinks down from cracked panes. As long as I live, there’s work to be done. No one helps.
And in my nightmares, I live forever.