Fractal Butterfly
Posted: Wed Feb 08, 2012 11:28 am
I open my eyes, and my world is agony. A scream of pain begins in my crushed legs and rises through my shattered body, turning into a bloody gurgle that barely escapes my lips. The world is illuminated in a stark white light, laced by the flashing colors of emergency blinkers.
A broad, kind face leans down towards me. "Sir?" he says. "Sir, can you hear me?"
Yes, I can hear you. I groan in response and try to turn my head to the left. There is a grinding feeling in my neck, and I stop.
The man flinches. "Sir, please don't turn your head," he says. "Please keep still: you may have an injury in your neck."
I do have an injury in my neck. I try to tell him that, but can only sob in pain.
A plastic collar is placed around my neck, immobilizing my head. "All right," the man says. "We're ready to start."
A protective blanket is placed over me, shrouding me in darkness. I can hear the loud shriek of a circular saw cutting through metal.
I fall free from the mangled wreck and am caught by strong hands. I am lowered to the ground and strapped carefully to a stiff backboard. Six men lift me up, like pallbearers at a funeral.
As I am raised up, I get a glance at the passenger's side seat. . . at the thing the man with the broad, kind face tried to stop me from seeing.
Oh. . .
Oh, no.
Emi.
"So, what do you want for dinner, little girl?" I ask.
"Oden!"
"Oden again? We had oden last night!"
"Daddy's oden is the best! I want to eat it every night!"
I turn to my left to face my little girl and laugh. Behind her, through the passenger's side window, I can see a pair of headlights looming large as the truck runs the red light. . .
The scream that has been bubbling up inside my shattered body is torn free as I scream out my agony and loss.
My little girl is dead.
-----
"If it's any consolation," the doctor says, "She died instantly. There was no pain."
It's not any consolation, you asshole. My little girl is dead.
"Mister Ibarazaki," the doctor goes on. "We need to talk about your own rehabilitation. Now, we had to amputate both your legs above the knee, but with the state of modern prostheses, and with some therapy, there is no reason that you can't walk. . . or even run. . . again."
Emi will never run again.
"Dear," Meiko whispers. "Please say something."
I turn my face away from my devastated wife and close my eyes. I stay that way until I hear the footsteps leave the room, and my hospital door close.
-----
I awaken to find a male nurse standing in my room. He's taking my blood pressure and checking my vitals.
His hair is lavender. I don't like that. I don't like the way he smiles, either.
He jots down a few notes on my chart, puts it back in its slot at the foot of my bed, and twirls his pen before putting it back in his jacket pocket. He pauses with one hand on the door frame, looking down the empty, darkened hallway.
"If you could go back and change one thing in your life, would you?" he asks.
Stupid question. Stupid asshole.
"Yes," I growl harshly. "I'd wait ten damn seconds at the last stop sign."
The nurse turns back to me and smiles. "Good point. But that's not exactly what I meant."
He walks back to my bed and pulls up a chair next to me. "Let's consider a hypothetical," the nurse says. "You can make one small change, but the end results are functionally equivalent. One person dead, another maimed badly. The only difference is the names."
No hesitation. "I would do it."
"Really?" the nurse says. "Let's consider everything. . . in the name of informed consent. You are dead. Your little girl needs to live with that pain for the rest of her life. She will be badly injured. She will suffer the agonies of rehabilitation and therapy. The emptiness and despair you now feel, she will experience. It cannot even be said that she would live much longer despite all this: children are so fragile."
"She deserves to live. She hadn't even started to live," I retort.
"Neither had you, not in the grand scheme of things. Besides, who is to say how much longer you would have had to live anyway? For all we know, you will live on to a ripe old age. There may be other children. The pain will lessen with time. You will learn to live with your pain and your injuries. You will eventually find peace. Who is to say that one life is more or less precious than another?"
"You aren't a father, are you?" I ask.
"No," the nurse admits.
"Then you don't understand. Get out."
"All right," the lavender-haired man says. He stands up and walks back to the door. With one hand on the frame again, he turns back to me and asks. "Out of curiosity. . . do you know what change you would make?"
Suddenly I know exactly what he's talking about.
"Yes," I say, with confidence. "I know."
He closes the door and leaves me in darkness.
-----
"So, what do you want for dinner, little girl?" I ask.
"Oden!" Emi replies.
"Oden again? We had oden last night!"
"Daddy's oden is the best! I want to eat it every night!"
I turn my head to the right to face my little girl and laugh. Emi laughs back at me. My only warning is her eyes widening in fear, and a bright white light filling the car as, behind me, a truck runs a red light. . .
It feels right, for some reason.
Live, little girl. Live.
-----
"So," She asks. "What do you think?"
"I'm still not understanding it," I explain. "Logically, rationally, there is no real difference between the choices. I can't seem to understand this decision at all."
"That's because you still haven't come to understand Love," She replies. "Continue your studies of it as best you can. What will be your next course of action?"
"The man claims that I do not understand because I have never been a father," I explain. "I believe I will make up my deficiencies starting there. Besides," I explain, "I feel like I have a responsibility to the child."
She smiles at me and fades away into time and space. "Perhaps," she says, "You're coming to understand Love better than I expected."
-----
"Are you sure about this, dear?" Meiko asks. "It's a rather expensive car."
"I know, but I really like this one. Unfortunately, it's a foreign model, so it will have to be imported."
"It's your decision, dear."
"Hi, daddy! Whatcha doing?" Emi skips into the room and puts her big red backpack down on the couch.
"Welcome home, little girl," I say, giving her a kiss. "Daddy and mommy were just looking at cars."
"That's cool," she says. "Why is the steering wheel on the wrong side?"
"It's a foreign model," I explain. "They drive on the other side there."
"That's weird."
"It's just one of those things. It's not really a big deal, in the end."
A broad, kind face leans down towards me. "Sir?" he says. "Sir, can you hear me?"
Yes, I can hear you. I groan in response and try to turn my head to the left. There is a grinding feeling in my neck, and I stop.
The man flinches. "Sir, please don't turn your head," he says. "Please keep still: you may have an injury in your neck."
I do have an injury in my neck. I try to tell him that, but can only sob in pain.
A plastic collar is placed around my neck, immobilizing my head. "All right," the man says. "We're ready to start."
A protective blanket is placed over me, shrouding me in darkness. I can hear the loud shriek of a circular saw cutting through metal.
I fall free from the mangled wreck and am caught by strong hands. I am lowered to the ground and strapped carefully to a stiff backboard. Six men lift me up, like pallbearers at a funeral.
As I am raised up, I get a glance at the passenger's side seat. . . at the thing the man with the broad, kind face tried to stop me from seeing.
Oh. . .
Oh, no.
Emi.
"So, what do you want for dinner, little girl?" I ask.
"Oden!"
"Oden again? We had oden last night!"
"Daddy's oden is the best! I want to eat it every night!"
I turn to my left to face my little girl and laugh. Behind her, through the passenger's side window, I can see a pair of headlights looming large as the truck runs the red light. . .
The scream that has been bubbling up inside my shattered body is torn free as I scream out my agony and loss.
My little girl is dead.
-----
"If it's any consolation," the doctor says, "She died instantly. There was no pain."
It's not any consolation, you asshole. My little girl is dead.
"Mister Ibarazaki," the doctor goes on. "We need to talk about your own rehabilitation. Now, we had to amputate both your legs above the knee, but with the state of modern prostheses, and with some therapy, there is no reason that you can't walk. . . or even run. . . again."
Emi will never run again.
"Dear," Meiko whispers. "Please say something."
I turn my face away from my devastated wife and close my eyes. I stay that way until I hear the footsteps leave the room, and my hospital door close.
-----
I awaken to find a male nurse standing in my room. He's taking my blood pressure and checking my vitals.
His hair is lavender. I don't like that. I don't like the way he smiles, either.
He jots down a few notes on my chart, puts it back in its slot at the foot of my bed, and twirls his pen before putting it back in his jacket pocket. He pauses with one hand on the door frame, looking down the empty, darkened hallway.
"If you could go back and change one thing in your life, would you?" he asks.
Stupid question. Stupid asshole.
"Yes," I growl harshly. "I'd wait ten damn seconds at the last stop sign."
The nurse turns back to me and smiles. "Good point. But that's not exactly what I meant."
He walks back to my bed and pulls up a chair next to me. "Let's consider a hypothetical," the nurse says. "You can make one small change, but the end results are functionally equivalent. One person dead, another maimed badly. The only difference is the names."
No hesitation. "I would do it."
"Really?" the nurse says. "Let's consider everything. . . in the name of informed consent. You are dead. Your little girl needs to live with that pain for the rest of her life. She will be badly injured. She will suffer the agonies of rehabilitation and therapy. The emptiness and despair you now feel, she will experience. It cannot even be said that she would live much longer despite all this: children are so fragile."
"She deserves to live. She hadn't even started to live," I retort.
"Neither had you, not in the grand scheme of things. Besides, who is to say how much longer you would have had to live anyway? For all we know, you will live on to a ripe old age. There may be other children. The pain will lessen with time. You will learn to live with your pain and your injuries. You will eventually find peace. Who is to say that one life is more or less precious than another?"
"You aren't a father, are you?" I ask.
"No," the nurse admits.
"Then you don't understand. Get out."
"All right," the lavender-haired man says. He stands up and walks back to the door. With one hand on the frame again, he turns back to me and asks. "Out of curiosity. . . do you know what change you would make?"
Suddenly I know exactly what he's talking about.
"Yes," I say, with confidence. "I know."
He closes the door and leaves me in darkness.
-----
"So, what do you want for dinner, little girl?" I ask.
"Oden!" Emi replies.
"Oden again? We had oden last night!"
"Daddy's oden is the best! I want to eat it every night!"
I turn my head to the right to face my little girl and laugh. Emi laughs back at me. My only warning is her eyes widening in fear, and a bright white light filling the car as, behind me, a truck runs a red light. . .
It feels right, for some reason.
Live, little girl. Live.
-----
"So," She asks. "What do you think?"
"I'm still not understanding it," I explain. "Logically, rationally, there is no real difference between the choices. I can't seem to understand this decision at all."
"That's because you still haven't come to understand Love," She replies. "Continue your studies of it as best you can. What will be your next course of action?"
"The man claims that I do not understand because I have never been a father," I explain. "I believe I will make up my deficiencies starting there. Besides," I explain, "I feel like I have a responsibility to the child."
She smiles at me and fades away into time and space. "Perhaps," she says, "You're coming to understand Love better than I expected."
-----
"Are you sure about this, dear?" Meiko asks. "It's a rather expensive car."
"I know, but I really like this one. Unfortunately, it's a foreign model, so it will have to be imported."
"It's your decision, dear."
"Hi, daddy! Whatcha doing?" Emi skips into the room and puts her big red backpack down on the couch.
"Welcome home, little girl," I say, giving her a kiss. "Daddy and mommy were just looking at cars."
"That's cool," she says. "Why is the steering wheel on the wrong side?"
"It's a foreign model," I explain. "They drive on the other side there."
"That's weird."
"It's just one of those things. It's not really a big deal, in the end."
