Microstory 2790: Spoiler Alert: It’s a Parachute

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They’re moving everything out of the backyard. It’s the only space big enough for what they need to do. Lawn chairs, the table, the cornhole game things; it all has to go. Jande asks Ersence if she can go around stripping everyone’s bed. Some might not be so happy with that, and she doesn’t care what people think, so she can still get it done. Jande carries the sewing machine downstairs himself and sets it on the patio. The point where it gets the best faux sunlight is too far from the wall outlet, so he has to go around looking for an extension cord too. He sets everything up, Ersence gets all the bedding in a pile, and they should be ready to go. He doesn’t know how long it will take, though.

“Why are you asking me?” Dare questions. Everyone’s looking at him.

“You’re the sewing expert,” Jande tells him.

Dare winces. “What the hell gave you that idea?”

“The sewing kit was under your bed,” Jande points out. “Aren’t you a sewer?”

Dare rolls his eyes. “I took the kit because I wanted to learn how to sew. I didn’t even get a chance to try because we got wrapped up in getting rid of the smart dust.”

“Well, shit,” Jande laments. “This whole plan is contingent upon someone being able to sew all these sheets together.” He lifts his head. “So who here can do it? Come on, don’t be shy. Even if you’ve only done it once, at least that’s somewhere to start.”

Ximena raises her hand. “Um...no, not me, but, uh, Mayor can.”

“Mayor,” Jande echoes. “The guy currently playing footsie with Death. He’s the only one with any experience sewing? How did that happen? Was this all planned?”

“Haoran, how is he doing?” Ersence pushes. “Can he move? We could set him up in a chair so he only has to move his arms and hands. There’s a pedal. If he needs someone to hold a pedal down, well, I can certainly volunteer for that.”

Haoran stares at her blankly. “There is a torn shirt in his stomach that reads Y2K Princess. No, Ersence. He can’t move. Best I can do is carefully drag him to the patio.”

“That might be enough,” Jande decides. “He can instruct one of us how to do it.”

Haoran shakes his head, very annoyed. “If he needs to sleep, he needs to sleep.”

“We’re doing this for him,” Tamerlane reminds him. “If he wants to live, he’ll stay awake long enough to teach the sewer. I saw an epinephrine injector in the med kit—”

“You are not giving my patient epinephrine, you fucking psycho. He’ll bleed out in minutes.” Haoran makes himself calm down a little. “Though...I could theoretically...crack it open to control the dosage myself, and get some lucidity out of him. But only for a crash course. We’re talking about a sewing machine here, not a quantum terminal. Once he’s done teaching, he goes back on the sedative to recover.”

“Don’t use too many sedatives,” Kool warns. “We probably won’t get more.”

“And who else needs them?” Haoran questions. “They’re not recreational.”

“I’m not talking about myself,” Kool reacts. “I’m just saying...”

“I’m just saying,” Jande interrupts, “that we need to decide who is the best person for the job. It should be someone with nimble fingers who picks up new skills quickly.” He scans the crowd again. “Really? Still no takers. Do you all want Mayor to die?”

Still no response. No one is guilted into volunteering. They probably don’t want something to go wrong and be blamed for someone’s death. Death is so rare these days.

Jande sighs. “Fine. As a farmer, I guess I have decent hand-eye coordination. But we all have to contribute. Nap time’s over, people. Someone other than me or Mr. Gao, go get our patient, and carefully carry him out here so he can see the machine. There’s a lot of fabric here. I’m going to need help wrangling it. I’ll sit at this little chair, and control the section I’m working on as needed, but it will be a group effort.”

Jande sits down while everyone else is getting ready. He wants to study the sewing machine before he tries anything to maximize the time he has with his injured teacher. It looks relatively simple, but the real danger could be messing up after Mayor falls back asleep, and not knowing how to fix it.

Once Jande actually begins, he soon finds that it’s not as simple as moving the fabric and thread in the right way, and pushing the right buttons. It’s tiring. After twenty minutes, his body has kind of already had enough. He doesn’t keel over and pass out, but he starts making little mistakes which could cost whoever uses this thing their life. It doesn’t have to be pretty, but they only have so much thread, so they have to make sure it holds. Fortunately, he wasn’t the only one paying attention.

A few others tag in so they can cycle the responsibility. It’s like a firing squad. If it tears somewhere, they won’t know whose fault it was. In fact, realizing this, Tamerlane suggests that everyone gets a turn on the machine, so they don’t end up being able to zero in on one person. Of course, they hope it holds together anyway, which is why everyone’s work gets checked and stress-tested, but it has to be fair.

Now comes the time when they have to decide who the hell is gonna use this thing. Van declared that whoever showed up would get the antibiotics that Mayor needed, but also that there would be a second prize. Of course, to maintain that tension the producers love so much, he didn’t say what the prize would be. It could be as simple as a slice of pizza, or the chance to name an opponent to be kicked out of the race entirely. That was Zanele’s random idea, and she shouldn’t have said it, because now the producers can use it, assuming they didn’t think of it before.

Jande has been the de facto leader throughout a lot of this, but not all of it. He literally has the loudest voice, except for Mayor. That’s really the only reason. Right?

“Wait, why would I be in charge of deciding?” Haoran asks.

“You don’t have to decide,” Jande says, “but you have to at least decide how we decide. You’re the doctor. You’re the only one who can’t go. The rest of us are fair game.”

“It sounds like you still wanna lead, like you did the sewing challenge,” Haoran reasons. “Candidates vote for themselves every election. So get on up here, big guy.”

“Hold on.” Pryce shakes his head with a chuckle. “We don’t need a moderated debate. We can just vote. All in favor of Jande being the one to go, raise your hands.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. How did I suddenly become the only one in contention? That’s not fair. Who votes for Pryce instead?”

No one raises their hand, not even his literal wife. So Jande has to trust the parachute that he was primarily responsible for putting together. Which actually is somewhat fair. It’s not as bad as he thought. The ride down is cold as hell, but mostly boring. The annoying part is as soon as he lands, the house does too, having been lowered safely on the hydraulics. It was timed perfectly to make him look like a chump.

Van walks over with his microphone. “Welcome to the next challenge! We lied. Before you get the antibiotics, you have to compete in our Sudden Death round. Whoever kills Jande Ter Avest before the timer runs out becomes the Superintendent. If Jande survives the day, we keep going. Okay, three, two, one,” he rattles off, “go!”

Microstory 2548: Head of Security

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Some people confuse me with Mr. Tipton’s personal bodyguard, and when I explain the difference, they usually wanna know which one of us is the other’s boss. The answer is neither. We don’t even work in the same department. He’s in Personal Support, and I’m in Facilities. His only responsibility is the safety of the primary asset, and mine is to the Foundation as a whole, which primarily means our headquarters. There aren’t as many on my team as I would like, but the truth is that we’re not doing it alone. The Guides and Queuers are trained in their own way, and are on the lookout for trouble and vulnerabilities. Not all of us who actually are Security proper are even armed, so the difference is sometimes logistical. I can’t order them around, I guess that’s the thing, but the rest of the staff is always very aware and prepared. I’m not sure there’s anyone who doesn’t know first aid and CPR, at least. Everyone has a profound interest in protecting the organization, and its primary. We didn’t apply to work here because the pay looked good, or it was close to home, or because we couldn’t find anything else. You have to have passion and heart, and the hiring managers know how to filter for that. They’re directed and trained to look for it in interviews. It’s not too hard to find when you pull in the kind of numbers that our Staff Services department does. Everyone wants to work here, so choosing someone who will fight to keep it safe and secure just sort of happens on its own. Look at me, talking mostly about staffing, as if that’s my concern. I’m not worried about them at all. I’m worried about the thousands of people wandering around the building day in, day out. Everyone gets sick. It doesn’t matter if you’re nice, mean, well-intentioned, or demonic; you might need a cure, and the application process does not screen for personality traits. It operates on a first come, first serve basis, so we’re pretty much the last and only defense against genuine threats. We never know where they’re coming from, or who might be perpetrating them. I’m not saying that there have been any major on-the-ground issues, but we have to stay alert at all times. Mostly, we run into patients who believe they’ve been cut in line, or they have a perception that they’ve been waiting for longer than others. If someone has been sick their whole life, waiting a couple hours to be free from it forever might seem trivial, but the closer you get to the miracle, the more anxious you become. That can lead to conflict, and you would be surprised at the demographics. We’ve had to put a stop to a few fist fights, but we only made the decision to call the police once. It was for someone who came in drunk because he was celebrating the upcoming occasion. As far as I know, his name was flagged, and he’ll never get his cure. This was early on, they turned the campground into a dry one after that incident. We do track threats to Mr. Tipton’s life, and there is one in particular that I’m very worried about, but we’ll handle it. We always do.

Microstory 2545: Obstetrician

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I’m technically trained as an OB-GYN, but I practice obstetrics. It wasn’t always like that. For years, I worked as an Associate Physician at a private practice for years. I worked there in that capacity for a little too long, in fact. I should have been on the partner track. My boss kept telling me that he would let me buy into the practice to join them one day, but it never happened. It was a boy’s club, and probably not my best idea to apply there in the first place. But I absolutely adored my patients, so I stuck with it. Finally, I had had enough of being dismissed and sidelined. I started focusing on starting my own practice, at first while I was still employed, but then not once they found out, and fired me over it. “If you don’t wanna work here, then don’t work here!” Well, they had to pay into my unemployment insurance by not letting me quit, so who’s the loser now? Sorry, I get a little frustrated, even though I’ve left them in the dust. Starting my own practice was a huge struggle. I had trouble securing the loan, and no one in the industry wanted to work with me, because my old bosses bad-mouthed me to them. I was distraught. I didn’t know what to do. I started reapplying to other practices, but had no luck. I finally decided to just move out here to Kansas. I didn’t even have a job lined up. I kind of just threw a dart on a map, and took what looked interesting. I can’t remember the connection, but someone I knew knew someone who knew someone who blah, blah, blah. I had some six degrees of separation from Landis. They asked me to come work for them for their new legacy department. So, it’s not the same thing as actually owning your own practice, but I’m still the one who runs the place. I make all the decisions, and care for our patients the way I know they should be treated. As I said, I practice mostly obstetrics now, but that’s more of the way we frame it. Obviously, if one of my patients who had her child years ago comes to me with an issue in my department, I’m not going to turn her away. She lives here, and it’s my job to treat her. Oh, my old bosses were so upset when they found out that the Foundation picked me. They actually tried to do the same thing that they did for all the practices in my original area, in the hopes that they would be selected instead. What a bunch of jerks. They still won’t talk to me. They act like I stole their jobs. But my colleagues have my back, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t think that my patients would either.

Microstory 2540: Concierge Doctor

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I’m obviously bound by doctor-patient confidentiality, but even if I felt comfortable divulging any privileged information about my patient, there would be nothing to say. Landis is in perfect shape, which is exactly what you would expect to find in someone with such abilities. It’s the easiest work I’ve ever done. It’s probably not necessary, it just seems rational for this one man to have a personal concierge doctor available to respond to his hypothetical needs at all times. A lot of the work I do involves running reports on his vitals. They do change, throughout the day and day to day, but they’re always within acceptable and optimal parameters. His stress levels can fluctuate, but the underlying conditions are apparently mitigated through his own self-healing. I don’t know a whole lot about it. The researchers keep their research behind closed doors. I’m just responsible for how he’s doing, not why he’s healthy. I try to follow current health guidelines regarding his lifestyle and eating habits. For one, he works twelve hours a day, which isn’t recommended, but I was overruled. Secondly, he doesn’t get any exercise, which is why I firmly believe his ability is healing him, because otherwise, he shouldn’t be doing so well. I certainly wouldn’t call him a sloth, but if he moved around more, it would either exhaust him after hours, or his own patients would have to walk with him, which is an absurd proposition. So, his diet. That’s really the only thing that I can control. I decide what goes in his body, and I run my own blood tests on him to make the best judgment calls I can for every single meal. Most people don’t have their diets so precisely tailored, but obviously, I have quite a bit of time on my hands. So I work closely with his personal chef, who has no problem following my recommendations, and Landis himself doesn’t really care. I sit at the ready should anything go wrong in my office that’s attached to the healing room, and at the end of every shift, I perform a quick physical examination. I work long hours, but they’re easy hours. Sometimes I reminisce about the rush of the emergency room, but I know how lucky I am, so I try not to take my good fortune for granted. One day, I may become obsolete entirely, and while that might sound scary, the world would be vastly superior to even the one we have today. I’m all for it.

Microstory 2539: Fareweller

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I’m the last stop on this wild ride that we call a once-in-a-lifetime miracle cure. Unlike the Greeter, my job is exactly what it sounds like. There’s a tiny bit more to it, but mostly, I just smile and wave goodbye. Most of the time, the questions I get are about where the restrooms are, how to get back to where they parked, how to get back on the highway, and the like. I make sure that they didn’t forget anything in the waiting rooms too. It doesn’t happen often, because the Guides and Queuers are watching for those types of things, but it happens; people lose stuff. Usually, they don’t even care, because they’ve just been cured, but I have to do my due diligence. There’s also one important duty that doesn’t sound like something that should be necessary, and maybe it isn’t, but I’m there, so I might as well. I always ask them if they expected Landis to breathe on them, and if he did. I know, it seems redundant, and I’ve never run into any issue, but it’s a chaotic place. It wouldn’t be impossible for someone to get confused, and wander to the exit when they ought to be looking for the entrance. It’s impossible to get through the Settlement area without paying or being paid, but if you haven’t entered the healing room yet, you absolutely could subvert the entire process. For most people, even if this does happen, they’re gonna see that EXIT sign, and realize that something went wrong. We do have patients with memory and mind problems, however, and they could get lost. Again, the Guides and Queuers are there to wrangle people into the right places, but the system isn’t perfect. This is also a great question for people to hear if they have complaints. It offers them the opportunity to air their grievances, without me first pestering them for feedback, or implying that there should be something for them to complain about. “Were you expecting Landis Tipton to breathe on you, and if so, did he?” // “Well, he did, but he also accidentally spit on my face a little, and I don’t like that.” There’s not really anything that I can do about it, but perhaps send it as feedback through the proper channels, but the biggest reason is to make sure that these people are feeling seen and heard. It’s our last chance to provide them with a quality experience, so we don’t want to miss anything. One of my co-workers came up with the idea. She thought that it was a good question to ask, and management actually agreed, so they wrote it into the procedures guide, which I think is pretty cool. They actually listen to us. Not every organization would do that. I think that’s it for me. Goodbye.

Microstory 2537: Bodyguard

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My job is pretty straightforward. Everyone knows what a bodyguard is. Landis Tipton is my one and only charge, and to clarify what that means, I will not protect anyone else at his risk. Wherever he goes, I go, and if he goes somewhere with other people, there’s likely to be another member of the security team there. That guard, and anyone else of sufficient proximity, would be responsible for handling a physical threat to those other people in the room. Landis is the only one I’m ever concerned for. I don’t wanna say that his life is worth more than anyone else’s, but...it is. Let’s be real, I’m not here to protect the highest bidder. I’ve answered a calling to serve this planet’s greatest asset, and that is not an exaggeration. I firmly believe that, and I don’t know if I could successfully do my job if I didn’t. I stand off at his flank, keeping one eye on him, and the other eye scanning for threats. Every minute, three or four people come into the healing room who have never been here before. They’re mostly grateful for the opportunity. At worst, perhaps they are anxious or scared. He does heal children, and children often fear medical environments. They are obviously not the threats I’m worried about, however, I also can’t discount them, especially since every minor has to be accompanied by a caregiver. Anyone—anyone—who walks into this room could have ulterior motives. Just because they have a disease that qualifies for healing, doesn’t mean they don’t also have some nefarious agenda. Or maybe it’s not nefarious, per se, but obsessive or destructive. A lot of people are in love with this man, or think they are, and they want more than they are entitled to. Kisses are the biggest thing. They either try to sneak one for its intrinsic value, or because they think it might somehow be a more powerful cure than his breath alone. I don’t know. I don’t care. I put a stop to it. They’re given the rules, and we have signage posted at strategic locations. They’re all fully aware of what they’re there to do, and why those rules are in place. They only spend a fraction of the time under Landis’ breath. Most of it is learning about the Foundation. So really, I don’t tolerate the missteps. I’m gentle and careful, but firm and strict. His safety comes down to more than just whether someone has a weapon or not, and I am the last line of defense against all hazards, great and small.

Microstory 2534: Phlebotomist

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People call me Landis’ personal phlebotomist, and it’s true that I’m the only one who performs that task, but the truth is that I do it for the whole staff, and even some of the patients. There are two other phlebotomists that are there to help me with other patients. People think that working for the Foundation means that you can’t get sick. They think that if something happens, he can just heal them up real quick, and then return to his normal work. He probably would do that, but we can’t have our workers getting sick just because they have that safety net. Our health insurance company, and other regulatory bodies, would lose their minds if they found out that we were being careless with our health and safety protocols. They really don’t care what it is we do here. Sick people don’t just frequent our building. That’s literally the whole reason that we exist, and like any normal medical facility, we’re expected to take precautions. I test the staff’s blood regularly, screening them for ever transmissible disease that they may have come in contact with during their work. That’s in addition to the masking, social distancing, and cleaning that we perform to prevent the spread. Landis could have operated out of a tent in the middle of a field like those lunatic religious liars, but he chose the hotel so people could keep their distances from each other. Seriously, it was part of his initial pitch. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I mean, what’s the incubation period of a given disease, and will his breath heal it if one patient contracted something from another just five minutes ago? They didn’t know the answer to that question before. Now, after research, we know that whatever is in Landis’ breath stays in the target’s body for about a week, but we still take measures to prevent that from happening. It would be irrational not to, particularly because we don’t offer second healings. Back to what I was saying, I do draw his blood too. I do it every day, and send it off to the researchers. It was very important to him that he hire someone to do this job in house instead of relying on a contractor. It’s not like it inherently prevents mishandling of his sample, but just in general, he prefers to be the one to pay his staff. We do have a couple of contract workers, and for legal reasons, they’re not allowed to live on-site. I don’t know whether that bothers them or not, but I’m glad that I get to stay here. Room service, house-keeping. It’s like I’m on vacation all the time. You can’t beat this lifestyle. It’s not why I got certified, but I don’t hate it.

Microstory 2533: Patient Relative

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My father has been battling cancer for years now. It’s been so hard to watch him struggle. I’ve sometimes thought that the treatment was worse than the disease. I’m still not entirely convinced that that’s not true. It always seemed crazy to me that the only way to fight it off is to make it sick. It’s like shooting the hostage. One of the bullets might hit the hostage-taker too, but is the price worth it? Well, now we don’t have to worry about it anymore. No more tests, no more chemo. No more sleeping half the day away, no more spending the rest of the day worshiping the porcelain god. He’s going to be cured. Our application was just accepted. Now we’re just biding our time until the appointment. Per sound advice, he has continued his conventional treatments, not because we think the appointment will fall through, but because we don’t want to take any chances. He’ll stop a week before, because that will be the end of another round, and so he can feel better for the trip down to Kansas City, but no sooner than that. This is going to be such a relief. I’m excited to have my dad back, but all he’s been talking about is my education. I dropped out of college when he was diagnosed so I could go back home to take care of him. He’s always thought I resented him for that, but I didn’t care for school anyway. It’s not like I was training to be an engineer, or a lawyer. I was getting an undergraduate degree in underwater basket-weaving. It might have helped me get a job, but it wouldn’t help me make better money. That’s one thing you have to remember when you’re trying to decide whether you’ll go or not. It helps you get in the door, but it doesn’t keep you in the room. Your boss and your hiring manager may like to see it on your résumé, but if you suck at the job, they’re not going to say, “oh, but she’s a graduate. Better give her a second chance. We would fire her right away if she only had a high school diploma.” No, that’s not a thing. I’m happy where I am now, and I love living at home. I love my dad, and I like spending time with him, regardless of what brought me back here in the first place. He wants me to go back to school, but I think it’s mostly about the symmetry of it. For him, he doesn’t like to start something without finishing it. Things like that are just always hanging over his head, and he can feel them. It makes his condition worse, worrying about something undone, even if it doesn’t need to be done. He once finished a bowl of soup that was making him nauseated just because when you have a meal, you eat until it’s gone. He immediately threw it up, but guess what? He threw it all up. I hope getting the cure will help alleviate the stress from all that. I can’t wait. I’m probably more excited than he is.

Microstory 2532: Ethicist

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I have my fingerprints in every department. Running an organization, be it a for-profit business, or a charity, or a weird thing in between that’s never been done before, is complicated. My job is all about questions, and never about answers. The most important questions don’t have answers. I prefer to call them responses or decisions, depending on the semantics. Should you charge for your services? How much? And the weird ones like, how much should you pay? How do you decide who gets what, or gives what, or what! I came onboard rather early on to help come to the best possible decisions. They’ve not always listened to me. They insisted on this model, and only accepted a few of my tweaks, but the principle stands. We use a sliding scale fee model that charges more to people with more means. It’s not uncommon in certain industries, such as health care and legal aid. We may have come up with this particular variant, but it happens all the time. I didn’t want to do it because I generally prefer to see an organization like this run on donations. It’s cleaner, better understood by the public, and just generally easier to accept. They could still give their charitable donations to their clients, but the money would be coming in from any and all sources. Don’t limit yourself to only your own clients. That was my reasoning, anyway. I was wrong. The system works. We have a donation portal and people do contribute, but most of our revenue is supported by the wealthiest patients, who have proven themselves to be more than happy to give what they can. Never underestimate a person’s value of their own health and life. Some would do just about anything to survive, and by simply charging them money for it, we take away some of the less savory options. We would all like to see the black market organ transplant network meet its end. Anyway, I’m still here, because we still run into ethical quandaries, which require finding the best response available. The executives don’t mistreat their employees, and not just because I’m here, but it’s always safer to have someone overseeing it than to just hope it doesn’t drift. I watch for abuse of power, and mishandling of funds, and living conditions of the campgrounds, as well as our neighboring hotels. I make sure the waiting rooms are clean and stocked, and people with mobility issues aren’t left standing in line too long. I can’t make any changes to these policies myself, but I advise the leadership on what they can do to improve conditions. I’m glad that they made the decision early on to hire someone like me. Even if it isn’t me, someone ought to be doing it, and other companies could stand to model their business a little more like this one.

Microstory 2529: Settlement Specialist

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I was one of the first people to work at the Foundation, I’m proud to say. I’m the one who came up with my own job title. They wanted to call it a Cashier, because that’s the best they could come up with, but it’s not really accurate. No one is paying up little enough money to warrant dealing with cash, and we absolutely can’t payout in cash either, even at the smallest figures. We will agree to write you a check if you really think you can handle it, but we don’t even like that. I’m not saying that scammers and muggers hang around our hotel, waiting to steal people’s money because they know that’s what we do here, but it’s not like it’s a secret, so it’s entirely plausible. We really prefer direct deposit, but we understand that not everyone is banked. This is why we’ve partnered with WinterTree Bank to offer clients prepaid debit cards for their financial needs. They’re useless without the PIN, and can be reloaded at the ATM should they like to deposit any other cash they do receive, or a paycheck. While the Financial Evaluators determine how much a patient owes or receives, and the Accounts keep track of our finances overall, I’m responsible for making sure that money goes in, or comes out, accordingly. Once Landis finishes his healing, they come to me, or one of my teammates. We verify their ID, we confirm with them and their Guide that they did indeed receive a breath treatment, and we explain to them what the computer says about their situation. People who are making a pay-up know roughly how much money it’s going to be, but the people receiving payouts are not provided with this information ahead of time. They are quite often rather surprised. Sometimes it’s good news, and sometimes not, though, because some were hoping for a little bit of money, when it turns out they don’t qualify for either. They don’t have to pay, but they’re not getting any money either. You need to have thick skin working this job, and you need to know how to handle stress. It can be quite the roller coaster. It’s usually rewarding. For people receiving money from us, it’s almost always so much more than they dreamed of getting. But it can be hard when they’ve heard rumors of how much some people are getting, and their case doesn’t match up with their hopes. It’s a little like gig jobs, where the company will advertise that you can make up to a thousand dollars in one day, when really, that’s something that happened to one driver once, who happened to keep being at the right place at the right time, and it still didn’t give him health insurance. Even so, for the most part, the patients are grateful, even the ones who pay-up, because they’ve just been healed, and that puts most people in a good mood. This job is worth the uncertainty.

Microstory 2528: Unhoused Patient

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I have some sort of disease that I can’t pronounce, and I don’t like to talk about it. They diagnosed me at the free clinic because I was having these phantom pains all over my body. They say it’s neurological. Or I should say that they said that, because I don’t have it anymore. Yeah, I heard about this Tipton fellow, and didn’t think it had anything to do with me. Why would they take some raggedy aging woman who lives on the streets? I mean, I didn’t even get that far in my thinking. I heard the news on the radio, shrugged, and then moved on with my life. A few years later, I was sitting in the park, which I do every Tuesday, because that’s when they water the plants, which soaks the soil, which brings up the worms, which brings down the birds. I know, I’m a bit of a stereotype, but who doesn’t like birds? Anyway, I was just sitting there when this social worker comes up and tells me about a program which assists unhoused people in applying to be healed at the Foundation. I said, “you’re crazy. We live in Denver. How the hell am I gonna get all the way out there anyway?” He said that they offer transportation too. I asked him what church he was with, and he said none. This is just something the city wants to do to help out. I was, like, “okay. Sign me up. Literally!” Then I laughed, and he laughed too. And wouldn’t you know it, they actually followed through on their promise. Now, I don’t wanna sound too cynical, but you know how cities feel about their homeless. I’m sorry, you’re supposed to say unhoused these days. You know how they feel about their unhoused. They don’t like ‘em, and they wanna get rid of them. And sometimes what they do is just bus them out to a different area. I don’t know, maybe that was happening here too, but the Foundation is a real thing, and my application was real too. They gave me a burner phone so I could get my information, which told me where to go, and when to be there. I sat in the room, and I waited in line, and this kid breathed on me. But it doesn’t stop there. After I left the room, they guided me to a cashier, or whatever, who gave me money. They set me up with a special card that’s specially designed for people without easy access to a normal bank. I haven’t had a bank account in fourteen years and don’t trust them anymore. I thought they were joking, but dammit if I didn’t end up with $18,000 dollars all for me. Can you believe it? They paid me to take the cure. These people are nuts. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I kept my mouth shut, and walked away with my card. I never went back to Denver, because there’s nothing there for me. I got myself some affordable housing, took a shower or two, and now I’m currently looking for a job. Let me know if you know anyone who wants to hire a 54-year-old formerly unhoused woman who still doesn’t have a car, but did once work as a secretary for a plastics manufacturer. This new money is great, but it ain’t gonna last forever.

Microstory 2527: Poor Patient

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I used to clean toilets for a living, which speaks both to my financial situation, and my medical problems. For years, I was asked to do my job with a cleaning solution called Bartho’s. You may have heard about them in the news recently. It was discovered that Bartho’s included a chemical known as diacetyl. They were aware of its harmful effects when inhaled, but deliberately kept it off of their ingredient list. That is a huge no-no, and it’s why we’re going to win this class-action lawsuit no matter what Henderen Co. says about the ultimate solution to their gross negligence. Can you believe that they actually point to Landis Tipton as the reason why the case should be dismissed? They claim that their clear violation of safety laws doesn’t matter now that any disease that might have been caused by their mislabeled products can be cured with a simple breath. Oh, that’s not gonna fly. Not everyone has access to the cure, and even if we did, that doesn’t mean they didn’t break the law. It’s not even about the money; it’s about the injustice. Money, I have now. As a patient at the Foundation with low income, I was awarded roughly $6,000 dollars in addition to my healing. There were no stipulations or hoops to jump through. I sent them my bank statements, and they gave me free money. It’s just this extra little thing that they do. I don’t understand how the model works, but I think it all comes down to the fact that it’s a non-profit. From what I hear, it’s relatively easy for them to pay for their expenses. It’s therefore easier to charge the wealthiest patients up the wazoo, and give any extra they end up with to people like me. If you think about it, it’s not that crazy. Billionaires get sick too, and they may have access to better health resources, but there’s only so much you can do. Five years ago, very few diseases had been cured. So they can afford thousands, or even millions, of dollars to save their lives. They were probably paying more for persistent treatment, so for them, it’s still a great deal. And it supports everyone else. Which, if they have a problem with, they probably don’t deserve to be healed. Anyway, I’m still scrubbing toilets, but now maybe my son can go to college.

Microstory 2526: Middle Class Patient

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When the Foundation first made the rounds in the news, I both was skeptical, and didn’t think it applied to me. I exercise every day, even if it’s just a thirty-minute walk, and I always eat healthy. I get plenty of fiber, and the right ratio of my macronutrients. I’ve never had a problem with vegetables, even as a kid. Unfortunately, none of that mattered, because I was born with higher susceptibility to Hereditary Chorea. You can look up what that is, and what it does to your body, but it’s a genetic disease that there’s nothing you can do to stop it. It doesn’t matter how you live your life, or what exams and procedures you have done in your youth. You’re born with it, and only time will tell if you develop it. You can get tested to see if you have the gene, but you’re unlikely to even request such a test if you have no reason to suspect that it runs in your family. I was adopted by a very nice and soft-spoken man who I love very dearly, and the only thing I realized too late that I was missing in my life was the right kind of information. I never cared what happened to my birth parents. I was abandoned in a crackhouse as a baby, so family services had no idea who my mother was, let alone my father. I never had any interest in locating my birth mother, but looking back, I probably should have, for this reason, and this reason alone. I didn’t know that the disease runs in my family, and I still don’t know which side of the family it’s on. It could be both, for all we know. Had we thought to get me tested, I could have been better prepared for it. Very specifically, I would have chosen not to have children. Do not misunderstand me, I love my kids immensely, but I unwittingly placed them at risk simply by having them. That was the hardest part after the onset of my symptoms, worrying that one or both of them would suffer as I did when they got to be my age. I was so relieved when I started hearing proof that Landis was the real deal, and not some charlatan selling snake oil. I honestly didn’t think I would get the chance for a cure. I hoped that my children would have better chances when they were older. Then my thoughts darkened again, because I thought, what if Landis dies before my kids get the chance to be cured? How big is our window here? Then the news continued, and we found out about the panacea research, and I felt grateful again. If I died before they completed such research, I could leave this world confident that my young ones would likely grow up to a world with no disease. Obviously I applied for my own healing anyway, because I certainly didn’t want to leave them, and that’s how we’re here today. I put in a lot of work preparing my family for a future without me. Now I have to walk a lot of that back, and consider where we go from here. Not that I’m complaining. It’s a good problem to have.

Microstory 2525: Rich Patient

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I am no stranger to charity. I have always been on this side of it. I was born into a wealthy family of business moguls. I can’t tell you exactly what our family does, because we have our hands in a lot of different cookie jars. My ancestors liked to invest in ideas, and they were very good at telling the difference between the great ones and the stinkers. Most people in my family have kept the tradition alive, and invest in whatever they think will be the most profitable. They are not saints, but I wouldn’t call them evil either. We didn’t make our money on great instincts alone. Research is the name of the game, and we pride ourselves in supporting ethical and sustainable companies over get-rich-quick schemes that some of our contemporaries are involved in. You’ll notice, I sometimes separate myself from my family, and sometimes lump myself in with them. The truth is that I’ve never been that interested in this kind of work. It’s oh so boring. I like that we do research, but I don’t like to do it myself, so to maintain the integrity of our practices, I have simply chosen to opt out. I’m lucky to have parents who allowed me to do this, and did not insist on me following in their footsteps. They actually had a lot of children for this reason. It might sound so calculated, but really, they were just practical. Instead of having one kid, and hoping they turned out exactly how they dreamed, they played the odds. They knew that the chances of one of us being like them went up the more they had. It ended up only being four, so don’t think they went crazy, or anything, and lucky them, three of them are all in. It’s really only I who chose a different path. I’m not entirely removed. I’m entitled to a trust fund, just as my siblings are, which I use to support my philanthropic endeavors. And you know what? My siblings do the same, but in their own way. They don’t wanna have to judge people, and determine what kind of charity they deserve, or how much, so they just give me the money, and I donate accordingly on their behalf. It’s a truly symbiotic relationship. I’m still quite a bit different than them. I open my own car doors, which my chauffeur keeps forgetting, and I raised my own kids with no help beyond my husband, and a few babysitters here and there. A few years ago, I was diagnosed with a condition called Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis. That first word means that they don’t know what caused it. So it’s no one’s fault. I have had it all this time while the Foundation was running, but I hesitated to apply for a healing. I’ve never called myself old, but I’m no spring chicken either. I honestly could have died at any time while I pursued typical treatment. I just didn’t want to butt in. So many other people needed help, and I didn’t want to take anyone’s slot. I admire Landis for developing a fair system that didn’t prioritize people like me, but it still felt so icky. Then something changed. I had grandchildren. Two twin girls. I decided that I wasn’t just fighting for my life, but for the time I could spend with them. So I applied, and got my healing. I don’t know how long I would have survived without it, but...not long. I was likely weeks away from expiring. Did you know, because of all of my charitable donations, they wanted to classify me as a no-pay? I wouldn’t have it. It goes against my entire being. I insisted they recategorize me for pay-up, so I could contribute my fair share. I didn’t give them all my money, since I need to leave some for my family when I finally do die, but I think I helped keep the lights on for a few more days. It’s the least I could do.

Microstory 2523: Health Coach

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Currently, everyone whose application is accepted by the Landis Tipton Breath of Life Foundation is entitled to a single healing session. No plans have been made to heal the same person more than once. Research is pretty minimal in this area. It’s not that they’re not running the studies, but they’ve been hush-hush about it. I want to be absolutely clear that we have no reason to believe that Landis’ healings are anything but permanent. If you’re suffering from anything when he gets his breath on you—even if it’s multiple things—they should be healed permanently. We have never heard of anything coming back. That said, what is unclear is how comprehensive the healing is to a person’s future health. I mean, you can get a terminal infection that he cures, only to later be diagnosed with cancer. I’ve never heard of any specific case, but that doesn’t tell me anything. The Foundation does not keep track of its past clients beyond making sure they do not attempt to apply a second time. We don’t check in on them, or send out periodic surveys. Any research done into how past patients are faring are being done by unrelated third parties, and are unendorsed by Landis Tipton, or the Foundation. Really, it has nothing to do with us. We don’t have the resources to track all of that data, and this decision was made long ago. That’s why I have a job, because while Landis can heal just about anything, it’s up to you to maintain your health from now on. We understand that healthy living is not easy. Fresh produce is more expensive. Not everyone can afford an exercise machine, a gym membership, or the time to care for themselves. What I do is teach patients to do what they can. They’re starting from scratch here, which is positively unprecedented in history. Medical science knows so much more about how to stay healthy than it used to, and one area of research that has always struggled with is reaching that great starting point. Landis has given people that, and I urge every one of my patients to not take that for granted. My services are not required. My classes take place after your healing sessions, and are entirely optional. Once you get through that line, and you’re checked out, you can leave. But if you want to make sure that your healing doesn’t go to waste, come to me, and I’ll do everything I can to educate you on how to live a healthy life, so you don’t even have to worry about the fact that there are as of yet no third chances. I have been a doctor for thirty years, and have always kept up with advancements in my field. My colleagues in the same position have similar résumés. We know what we’re talking about, and we can help you. All you gotta do...is turn left before you leave.

Microstory 2522: Patient Advocate

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I don’t work for the foundation. I am a professional Medical Advocate working for a medical outreach agency, which is commonly employed for patients who need a little extra help navigating the process. I’ve been doing this job since long before the Foundation was even the spark of an idea. Some patients get confused, or know their personalities and skillsets well enough to not trust themselves with being solely responsible for their own medical data. A healthy fraction of such patients have family members or friends who can help them through such difficult and complex processes, but there are others who aren’t so lucky. My agency has a long history of providing chaperoning service to patients who don’t want to be in the exam rooms alone with their medical providers. We help them ask questions, and understand the answers. We help them make their follow-up appointments, and fill their prescriptions. This is typically a paid service that you can find all over the world, but we can do it free of charge for Breath of Life patients through a special program where the Foundation pays for our services on behalf of their neediest patients. Again, I don’t work for Landis, but I’ve become particularly familiar with their practices and procedures, and can help each client get through the process safely and comfortably. Some of them are suffering from dementia, or related conditions, and require that one-on-one care. I tell ya, this is the most rewarding job I’ve ever had. Before this, I did a lot of crying, because I was handling patients who were at their worst. They weren’t getting better, and many of them remained my clients until they died. I’ve been to a lot of funerals throughout the run of my career. Well, not anymore. All of my patients live now, which is something I never thought I would see in my lifetime. I watch as a client with Alzheimer’s becomes suddenly lucid, and in a way that is not going to be undone the next time she sneezes or closes her eyes. This is it. This is what people like me have been hoping for our entire lives. I absolutely love it when a client stops needing my services, not because they die or can’t afford it anymore, but because they’re healthy now. And it gets me every single time. I guess I’m still crying, but they’re tears of joy now. I feel for my colleagues in the industry who don’t work here, who are still going through what I was before. They wish they could have my job, but there are only so many positions. They’re excited about the panacea. Even though it will mean the end of their jobs, they can’t wait for it, because it’s the best outcome possible. I’m pretty excited about what the future holds too.

Microstory 2521: Queuer

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Guides and Queuers are two sides of the same coin. My co-workers are there to answer questions because they are a lot more knowledgeable about how all of this works. My primary responsibility is to literally keep the line moving. We maintain constant contact with each other, and coordinate to make sure the process is physically smooth while patients transition from one place to another. To do this job, you need to have great spatial reasoning, and the ability to count a group of people extremely quickly. Has a job interviewer ever asked you that before? Did you ever study that in school? It’s not as easy as it sounds. Counting heads is just something you have to practice, but it’s vital to our job of making sure everyone is in the right place at the right time. We simultaneously don’t want too many people, or too few. It wastes everybody’s time, including both patients and staff. Landis can only heal one person at a time, so it’s up to the rest of us to make sure each next person is ready to go once he’s done with the last one. It’s stressful and chaotic, but I find it quite invigorating. The line never ends until the end of the day, but man, once we get there, it’s so satisfying. You don’t even know. One by one, the last of the patients step through that door, and you feel like you’ve completed a puzzle. And this happens every single day. Well, I mean, I don’t always have the post-lunch shift, so I don’t always see the end, but then I saw the beginning, and either way, it’s rewarding to keep people moving through that queue. Since you have to be good at counting people, and at recognizing them—so you don’t start giving people the same instructions they already heard, or asking them duplicate questions—you really see the progress you’re making. One after another; Bob, then Sue, then Sally, then Manuel. They walk up, go in, and disappear, never to be seen again. If you notice the same person too many times, you’re probably not coordinating them correctly. If you don’t ever notice the same person more than once, you’re probably not fit for the job. It’s all about balance. That’s what I tell people. I’m a balance worker. Moving lines, adjusting stanchions, filling waiting rooms as soon as they’re emptied of the group before. It’s a delicate dance that would probably make for a good show if you could see it from a God’s eye view. And I get to be one of the choreographers.

Microstory 2520: Guide

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Once you walk into the building, and get checked in with one of the greeters, you can ask me for help. There are a ton of us, patrolling and stationed strategically around the floor, ready to provide assistance. There’s at least one in every waiting room, one in the auditorium, several in the mainline. Outside, inside, topside. If you’re thirsty, we’ll get you water. If you don’t know where the nearest restroom is, we’ll escort you there. If you were in line when you had to step out, we’ll have a queuer keep track of where you were, and put you back in it at the right place. We can also answer questions about the history of the Foundation, and behind-the-scenes information. We know where you need to be, and where you’re going, and who you will be dealing with. Guides are friendly, knowledgeable, and always ready to take action. We get a ton of steps, so there’s one advantage. Since our job requires moving around so much more than others, we enjoy a very special exception. We’re entitled to injury healings. Hold for gasps. For the most part, Landis does not handle cuts and broken bones. They may hurt, and they may even be life-threatening, but because of the acute time constraint involved in the most severe cases, the responsibility falls squarely on traditional medicine. It will get your application immediately rejected, even before you upload your medical and financial records. Some applicants have actually gotten real upset about that, because they also had a chronic illness, and figured they should include the normal injury along with it to be the most accurate. Don’t do it. Anyway, that’s not really the point. I’ve kind of made it sound like guides and queuers are getting injured left and right, but really, it’s more like a benefit in our insurance package. It’s there if we need it, and while it has happened before, we rarely need it. Mostly, the only people who ever had to use it were either exhausted or dehydrated. I recall one guy who twisted his ankle, and another was straight up punched in the face by a patient companion who was trying to defend her mother against another patient. But those were extreme circumstances. If necessary, we are allowed to cut in line to get it completed, but that’s only when we can’t continue our shift without it. Since it almost never happens, it might seem like a small thing, but I think it speaks to the culture of our organization. The leaders understand that there are exceptions to every rule. It’s important to maintain order and fairness, but that doesn’t mean being overly strict and inflexible. It’s also just kind of cool being a little bit more special on a staff of a very special Foundation.

Microstory 2519: Greeter

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People hear my job title, and think that all I do is smile and wave at the patients as they come in. Whoa-ho-ho, that ain’t it. You come to me, you give me your name and ID, and I check you in. I make sure that you’ve come within your appointment window, and aren’t trying to jump the line, or that you’re late. I then send you to a waiting room based on availability. Once one room gets full, I’ll move onto the next one. So don’t go thinking that there’s anything connecting you with the other patients in your room. People have come back out and complained, because they get to talking with one another, and decide that some patients are less needy than others. That’s not what’s happening here. You’re grouped based on time, as was the appointment window in the first place. We encourage you to make friends while you’re waiting, and bond over your shared experience, but don’t imagine that the group you end up with says anything about what we think of you. I don’t know why I have to say all this, but I do. I would certainly never call mine the hardest job at the Foundation, but it’s not as easy as people think, so I always want to clarify that a nice smile is not all you need to do it. You will get belligerent people here, who feel entitled to certain accommodations, and as the first person they encounter, you will receive a lot of that hostility. It doesn’t happen every time. Ninety-nine out of a hundred patients are perfectly lovely. But it does happen sometimes, and it makes it hard to maintain that smile. I do it, because it’s important, and that’s what’s expected out of me. It’s not terribly complicated, so there’s really nothing more to say about it, but we’re always looking for new greeters, because we do have a shockingly high turnover rate compared to other departments. So if you think you can handle the stress, please apply. People think that operations are winding down because the panacea is close, but that is not what I’m hearing. The Foundation may never close. There may be a persistent market for direct healings, and obviously, it’s not up to me. It’s a decent job with great pay, and it’s really nice to just live right upstairs, so don’t let the news discourage you. Even if it doesn’t last forever, it covers any gap you might otherwise have in your résumé, and the Foundation shutting down is definitely a better reason for it to end. Most of the time, I bet your job ended because you were let go, right? That doesn’t really happen here, so just something to think about.

Microstory 2518: Daily Coordinator

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I am in charge of patient experience. The Appointment Coordinator is technically my superior, but she doesn’t have time to manage our department’s staff, so that falls to me. While the automated system is great for setting up appointment windows, what it can’t do is make sure that people actually show up for their appointment, or more importantly, don’t show up outside of their window. When your application is approved, you’re assigned a two-hour window on a particular day. If you can’t make it, you need to pull your application, and try again. It may sound like it helps us for people to show less urgency, but it overcomplicates the process. Just come when it’s your time. If you fail to show up, your name will be flagged, and your reapplication will be a lot more complicated. Don’t. Be. Late. That’s why we have the campground, and why nearby landowners literally built new hotels to help mitigate visitorship. I have to keep track of 2,000 people every day. The greeters will check you in, and tell you where to go, which sometimes means going right back out that door if you come before your window. I have it all set up real nice. Part of the first floor is dedicated to waiting rooms, where you wait with your group of 40 to 45 other people. Yeah, that’s right, we know how to break it down. Forty-five people per room with a total of eight rooms equals a maximum of 360 people in each two-hour window. While you’re sitting there, we may call you up individually to confirm some information, such as your financial situation. We got to keep things moving, so when your room is called, you’ll all proceed to the auditorium, where you’ll watch the orientation video. Don’t ask the host any questions. That’s what my guides and queuers are for. When the video is over, depending on the timeline, you’ll either go back to your waiting room, or go ahead and get in line. People have asked why the line is so long, and why they can’t just wait in the rooms. Well, it’s because Landis averages three patients per minute, but that doesn’t mean we record exactly three every time. Some people have mobility issues, and we experience other delays. If there’s a problem with your candidate profile, you may be bumped down to another group. That all takes time, and we don’t want to waste any of it. We don’t want Landis to be sitting there with no one to heal for an extended period of time. It’s gonna be hard, waiting through all of this, but it is absolutely worth it, because when you’re done, you’ll probably feel better than you ever have in your whole life. If everything goes smoothly, we might get the full 2,160 patients, but we usually don’t, and for that, we apologize. You will not miss out on your healing, though, so don’t fret. Any remainders at the end of the day will end up in Group One for the next day, and we might ask you to come in earlier than normal operating hours to make up for it. I know, I sound really blunt, and maybe a little aggressive, but this job is not easy, and if I take the time to be too polite and nice, we get behind schedule, and I can’t allow that.