2035 - Doctor Price

Welcome to the New World.

The Genetic Age. The Era of Progress, of Discovery, of Evolution. The Second Enlightenment.

Damn. Sounds nice, don’t it? That’s what we all thought, originally. Shit, that’s what our pals up in their cozy corporate penthouses still think. They think everything’s perfect, that all is right with the world. Think they’re making the planet a better place. But those of us who have to live in this world they created? Those of us who live as common folk, the working class…we know how it really is.

A building was blown up. An Insurgent, targeting the local bank. He ran in with bombs strapped to his chest, pressed the button, and that was it. Kaboom. Game over. Twenty dead, seventy-three injured. Tonight, he might make the evening news. Maybe. That would depend on how the rest of the day goes. And to think, I was going to deposit my paycheck tomorrow. So much for that.

A guy I knew was nearly shot. One of the MEMPO’s malfunctioned. AI Threat Detection chip or whatever the fuck it’s called went haywire. It scans, sees the guy’s gun, determines him a threat, and opens fire. Not really sure how they got out of that mess. Probably a remote shutdown. The machine will probably be scrapped. It’s pointless, really. We know they’ll just use the spare parts to make a new one…give it a few months, that one will fuck up too.

Junkie came into my office. Sixth one this week. This one was a bad case, though. Kid was probably no older than seventeen, tried mixing two Thermotech Boosters together. What a fucking mess. It’s hard to believe ten years ago, cancer was stumping us. I’d be lucky if someone came in here, asking me to pick out a tumor. Instead, here I am, de-splicing a kid’s genetic makeup, undoing his dumbass mistake. And the sick part of it all? I bet I’ll see the same face next week, with the same fucking problem. Why? Because he’ll never learn.

Still think the world sounds lovely and wonderful? Fuck you.

This is just another Wednesday.

Welcome to the United States, year 2035.

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I stare at the kid, lying shirtless on the operating table before me. He screams at the top of his lungs, thrashing about, having some sort of seizure right there on the table. I take a deep breath. Good Lord, I hate this job sometimes. There’s not a whole lot I can do for him. Inject a DeBooster, and let it run its course. In the meantime, he sits there in agony. Steam is rising off the kid, despite the water droplets clinging to his skin. That’s the danger of Thermotech Boosters for you. You got one that’ll make you immune to intense heat, one to freezing temperatures…extremely useful when used separately…mix ‘em together, though, and you have exactly what this kid has now. His body is at war with itself, rapidly warming and cooling, his internal temperature spiking to near two hundred degrees Fahrenheit, then dropping to negative ten, then going right back up again. And that’s how it’ll probably be for the next hour or so. Until then…

“Alright, nurse is going to keep an eye on you while I check on other patients. Hang in there, bud, you should be fine.”

There’s no way he hears me, not over his earsplitting cries. I don’t really care either way. I nod at the nurse as I pull off my surgical mask.

“Let me know if anything goes wrong. Just make sure he stays in that bed until the DeBooster kicks in.”

“Yes, doctor.”

I walk out of the room, heading down the hall, and stopping at the bathroom, peeling off my gloves and dropping them in the bin. Just another day, right? I stare at myself in the mirror. There are dark bags under my eyes, the result of three straight sleepless nights. I swear to God, it’s always one thing or another in this place. Monday, got called in for an emergency operation. Tuesday, the Insurgents made their nightly raid, and my street was the lucky winner. Couldn’t sleep, not with all the shouting and gunfire outside my apartment. Then last night, needing to finish the reports from last week. This job has way too much paperwork.

I splash some water on my face. It’s been a long day so far, and it’s still young. After the kid leaves, I’ll probably have fifteen minutes before my next appointment.

Names are for friends, so naturally, I don’t need one. To the men and women working at Mercy Hospital, my name is Dr. Price. That’s what I do. I’m a doctor, by profession. Not that there’s any real skill or prestige associated with the job anymore. These days, there’s nothing a quick shot from a Booster can’t fix. Shot in the chest? There’s a Booster for that. Broke your arm? Booster for that, too. Chronic illness? You’re a dirty fucking liar. No such thing as chronic diseases, thanks to…you guessed it. Fucking Boosters. Once upon a time, it took years of schooling, years of training to get into the medical field. Shit, wasn’t all that long ago, either. That’s how it was when I was growing up. I followed in my mother’s footsteps. She was a doctor, and she had spent eight years in school, endless hours training for a very demanding job…but me? I got it easy. Two years of schooling, learning the effects of different DeBoosters, learning which ones worked best for different symptoms, different ailments, and that was it. No more hours spent reading machines, examining patients, anything like that. Look for the problem, and stick a needle in their vein. Problem solved.

I stare at the mirror. People always did say I followed after my mother. Same blue eyes. Same blond hair. Same way of looking at life. Thinking everyone can be saved. Thinking nobody was beyond help. What a joke that turned out to be. Harsh reality of it was, some people didn’t want to be saved. Some people would rather stay aboard the sinking ship, flipping off the person in the lifeboat, trying to bring them to safety. My mom was that woman in the lifeboat. I smile a bit as I remember, years ago. Thinking back to those days as a kid…waiting for mom to get home from the hospital. We were always close, she and I…and then there was my father…

I’d rather not talk about him.

I shake my head, partly to shake the memories of my parents out of my mind, partly to let the drops of water clinging to my face to roll away. I take a deep breath, and glance at my watch. I have an appointment with Mrs. Larsen later today. Larsen has been complaining about back problems. Normally, I’d give her a Booster, tell her to call me in the morning…but she’s already taken three of them, and is still complaining. Either she’s not taking them, or she’s already addicted, and just looking for more. More likely than not, it’s the latter. That’s the problem with Boosters. They can cure any malady your mind can think of, and several that you can’t. They’ll take away your pain, bring you happiness you’ve never known…and yet, it still came as a surprise to some when people started getting hooked on Boosters. We have Matthews Enterprises to thank for that one. Them, their “brilliant” scientists…and that damned Genesis Project.

The Genesis Project was America’s best kept secret. Even now, I can’t exactly tell you what the whole thing was about. What I do know, though, is that all this technology…the Boosters and their little sub-techs? Thermotechs, Geotechs, Biotechs…all the result of the Genesis Project. It’s the reason I have twenty different people coming in every week, asking me to give them a DeBooster to fix them. It’s the reason we have the constant rebellions, The Insurgency trying to overthrow the government. It's the reason for the war of 2020, when half of Canada fell under American control. But most importantly, it’s the reason Matthews Enterprises runs the whole fucking show. That’s the cruel reality of it. He who makes the weapons, makes the rules. And these days, those rules are made by the CEO of Matthews Enterprises. Zack Matthews.

Now, I‘ve never really been much of a religious man…but if I‘ve ever seen the devil, it‘s behind the eyes of Mr. Matthews. He‘s the chairman of the board. The CEO of Matthews Enterprises. He runs the company with an iron fist…and the country follows his lead. See, to this very day, Matthews Enterprises holds the secret to creating Boosters. They’re the only ones with the technology. Sad fact is, ME’s got the stuff the world’s addicted to, and that puts Zack Matthews at the top of the food chain.

Of course, there are other factors as well…like the fact that all the fucking MEMPO’s in the country are under his control. Those were introduced shortly after the Genesis Project. A way to convince the government that Matthews was on their side. Mr. Matthews gives them an entire fleet of his company’s new war machines. MEMPO’s, he called them: Matthews Enterprises Mechanized Police Officers. Each one was equipped with assault weapons, reinforced, bulletproof steel plates, and an AI Threat Detection chip, which allowed them to see the world around them through a scanner, spot whatever posed a threat to the people around it, and determine an appropriate course of action. Thing is, Matthews never bothered telling anyone that he had an override installed in each and every one of them. When the time came in 2034, Matthews reveals his plan, and suddenly, every law enforcement official across America is under his command.

And, of course, there’s The Insurgency. The Insurgency had only grown since its beginnings back in the 1970’s. It started as some sort of hippie movement, and later grew to be a legitimate threat to national security. Around the time the Genesis Project was in full swing, The Insurgency was gaining in numbers, and it was growing fast, all under control of some new leader. Eventually, there came to be more members following it than one man could control, and it split into three. That ignited the Second American Civil War. Just a fancy name for what it really was: a huge turf war, spread across an entire nation. The government didn’t get involved until 2028.

Call it a stroke of luck. It's common knowledge that the Insurgency's main goal was to take down Matthews Enterprises before it could take over completely. Problem was, the moment the United States became concerned with their territory war in the north, the Insurgents had the perfect opportunity to strike, try and take out ME. Instead, they split, fought each other, began the Civil War...and gave the government plenty of time to bring half of Canada under the American flag, regroup, resupply, and fight the war at home. Finally, it ended, after six years, in 2031. The government was pleased with themselves. Dumb enough to think they had ended the war. Thought that was the end of the Insurgency. The real reason? Someone had stepped up their game. United the three sides. Brought the Insurgency under one banner once again. Their new leader. Some bitch named Eve.

These days, that's all that was ever going on, was battling between ME and the Insurgency. Propaganda from Matthews Enterprises, warning against the dangers of the Insurgency, calling them the rebels that were poisoning America. There were posters, glorifying Zack Matthews. Glorifying Boosters. Then tehre was the Insurgency...tearing posters apart...posting their own propaganda, depicting Matthews as some sort of Satan.

And there was Titan.

It was fairly well known that the Insurgency was funded by a mysterious benefactor, known only as Titan. Even Matthews Enterprises knew this guy existed...they just had no idea who it was. Word was, nobody knew who Titan was except the man himself, and Eve, the leader of the Insurgency. There were rumors, of course. Some thought it was some high-ranking businessman. Competition to Matthews Enterprises, looking to see the Insurgency succeed and take the company down. This seemed logical, except everytime a company grew large enough to even hope to stand against ME, it was bought out, or shut down by the "Department of Economics."

That was, perhaps, the biggest hypocrisy in America these days. These "Departments" instated by Matthews upon his government takeover. The Department of Public Relations was the worst. Responsible for altering documents, placing propaganda showing how great and wonderful the country was. Many people bought into it. I mean, how could they not? The history force fed to them by Matthews Enterprises told them it was true. Schools taught children about the glorious takeover, how the United States was on the verge of collapse before Zack Matthews stepped up and saved them from certain destruction. What a load of horseshit.

There were other rumors that insisted Titan was a government official. The president of some other nation, trying to ignite another civil war, keep American preoccupied so it could be attacked from another force. This too, made sense, as the United States, thanks to Boosters and MEMPO's, was the most powerful nation in the world...and was leaps and bounds ahead of the rest. In the last 20 years, it had undergone what many had called a "New Golden Age," discovering the secret to stem cells, which eventually led to the development of Boosters...which were now advertised and sold to anyone with the money to buy them.

Problem is, there was no stopping the US these days. Their armed forces weren't even human anymore, and those fucking MEMPO's were a dime a dozen. The United States armed forces outnumbered Russia a hundred to one. It was even larger than China...which for years had stood as the United States' biggest military competitor.

Finally, there was the thought that Titan didn't exist at all. That Titan was just a figment of Eve's imagination. Just a scapegoat, a decoy to throw Matthews Enterprises off the trail. This failed to explain how The Insurgency had managed to afford the Boosters that armed much of their soldiers.

Only time would tell who Titan really was...

I glance at my watch again. It's become habit. The job kept me busy all day, and since I never did a whole lot, it meant a lot of sitting around, waiting for the hours to pass. I wipe my face dry of any remaining water before heading back out into the hall. I had three patients at any given moment. It wasn't difficult to juggle, especially considering that the vast majority of them just needed a quick Booster injection. I stop at a booth on my way down the hall, and look in. A woman lays in the bed, heavy bandages wrapped around her face. I take the clipboard, glancing at it before tossing it uselessly to the desk beside me.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Matthews. How are you feeling today?"

She smiles, her bandages wrinkling as she does so.

"I told you, you can call me Ashley."

I smile. Ashley Matthews was the cousin of Zack Matthews. Yes, the CEO of Matthews Enterprises, Zack Matthews. She had been the victim of a horrific Booster incident many years ago, which left her face terribly scarred on the left side. Unfortunately, these days there wasn't a lot I could do. The accident had happened when Boosters were still a relatively new phenomenon, and people weren't completely sure how to properly harness their power. Someone had injected a Pyro Booster. One of the first ones Matthews Enterprises every created. It filled the lungs with methane and oxygen. Jacked up the internal temperature of the body to near two hundred degrees Fahrenheit. A gasoline-like compound fuses with the blood. The body becomes extremely flammable, but extremely resistant to heat. And mixed with the correct Booster, it allows the ejection of flames from various parts of the body, as the human emits a stream of blood, igniting it as it leaves the body.

That was the fate of Ashley Matthews. A casualty of war. It was an Insurgent. Mixed the Boosters, and had scorched her face horribly. These days, injecting that same Booster, along with one of the many medical Boosters available, would have fireproofed her skin, and healed the burn in a matter of days. After this number of years, though...the burn was too deep, the skin had been dead for too long. There was nothing I could do except give her old fashioned remedies. I had often asked her if reconstructive surgery was an option. For reasons unknown to me, she always refused.

"I'd rather we keep things professional."

"Right, of course...doctor."

She throws in the last word, almost as an afterthought. I smile.

"Shall we take off the bandages?"

She nods, and slowly reaches to the back of her head, where the bandages were tied off. She slowly unravels them, letting the thick dressings fall to a heap around her neck and shoulders. She shakes them off, letting them fall to the floor. It almost pains me to look at her. Ms. Matthews is nearing 45 years of age...but even through the flecks of gray in her brown hair, and the wrinkles that have begun to form on the right side of her face, i can see that once upon a time, this was a beautiful young woman. Years of pain and heartbreak had ruined that for her, so that now, her mind was just as beaten and scarred as her face.

"Blink."

She blinks once. Her right eye closes and opens normally. Her left sticks for a moment before opening up, revealing a distorted left eye. She's blind in that eye, that's for sure. The pupil has contracted so much, it may well not even exist. The eye itself was burned and punctures, allowing the brown of her eye to turn a slightly blacker color, and engulf the pupil. He face itself is heavily scarred. her lips are charred and chapped, and she is missing most of her left ear. Her hair is completely burned away, leaving only a few black patches and strands. I sigh, and take her hand. She's used to this by now. Even years later, the burn still pains her. I inject a Booster, and slowly release her arm.

"Have you been eating and sleeping okay?"

"Mostly."

"Something wrong?"

"No."

I smile. Ashley was one of my most loyal patients, and I got along very well with her. She was nearly twenty years older than me...but we were close. Like old friends.

"You can talk to me. Doctor-patient confidentiality?"

She laughs, and lays back in the bed.

"I've just been thinking about him a lot."

"Nick?"

"Yeah."

Nick was her ex-husband. For nearly five years, they had some on-again, off-again relationship going. They had married twice, the first time divorcing only a few months later. The second marriage lasted almost three years before finally ending. Nick had a hard head. He was stubborn, overaggressive, and had a problem with authority. It was also known he hated Matthews Enterprises with a passion, blaming it for the destruction of his own company in 2011. Back then, the company was under control of Zack's uncle, Chuck Matthews.

Chuck was hardly any better than his successor. I was just a boy at the time, and Matthews Enterprises was a national corporation...but nowhere near as powerful as it was now. Chuck was a ruthless businessman, and his swift tongue and sharp words made people wonder how long it would be before he finally went into politics. He never did. However, he was the man responsible for all the little projects and ideas that would eventually lead to Matthews Enterprises' takeover. It was Chuck that masterminded the Boosters, and it was he who funded the creation of the MEMPO prototype...which eventually went haywire and killed five innocent people. Chuck managed to get away scotch-free.

And the man wondered why there were three assassination attempts on him over the years.

I stare at Ashley, laying on the bed. It was hard to believe that such an innocent woman was the daughter of someone as heartless as Chuck Matthews. That she was the cousin of someone as cruel as Zack Matthews. She was adopted...so she had told me. I suppose that was the only thing that kept her off the same path of corruption. That fact that she wasn't blood related to the family...

She was a good soul.

"How is he?"

"I haven't talked to him lately."

I nod. As far as I knew, she hadn't even spoken to him in years. But I suppose if you married someone twice, they must have had a profound impact...I could understand why she still thought of him.

"What's the problem?"

"I just wonder if I did the right thing."

"The right thing?"

Ashley shrugs.

"I don't know...I remember, he hated my family. He hated dad, he hated Uncle Chris, he hated Zack...I was the only member of the family he cared about...but I wanted to be a part of my family. I liked being a Matthews...and I always thought he had a problem with that."

"Why is that?"

"It just felt like sometimes, he tried to make me feel guilty about wanting to be a part of that family. He severed all ties with his family, and I guess he expected me to do the same."

"But you couldn't."

Ashley shakes her head.

"I didn't have bitter feelings towards my family like he did for his. I cared a lot about them. I guess the reason I'm so disappointed is because eventually, I stopped being the mediator. I stopped trying to get them to settle their differences...I just took a seat at the sideline and watched everything unfold."

"Do you think it would have changed anything?"

"Do you?"

I stop. I was born in 2011...back when the whole thing was just kicking off. I didn't understand much of it when I was a kid...but I quickly learned as the years went on, talking to my parents, learning everything I could...even the seemingly simplest decisions could lead to huge changes in the future. I wondered if Ashley could have prevented this, this "world gone wrong." Was it possible that maybe everything was blown to hell, because the last glimmer of hope for the Matthews family had finally given in? Was it possible that Ashley may have been able to show Chuck, show Zack the error of their ways...and prevent Matthews Enterprises from taking over the country?

"I don't know."

Ashley smiles.

"It's a hell of a story...that's for sure."

I nod.

"It sure is."

"Do you ever think it's too late?"

"Too late for what?"

"To change things. Do you ever think the Insurgency is fighting a losing battle? That maybe there really is no stopping what happened? That this is how it's to be from now on?"

"I don't think it's ever too late for something to get better."

Ashley smiles, closing her eyes.

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"I don't know...it's just good to know that there are still some good people left. You're a good person."

I can't help but smile.

"So are you."

I think about all the things going on now. All the things that had happened over the years...maybe Ashley was right. Maybe things could change. Maybe, someday, the world would return to the way it was, before the Matthews takeover. But who could stop it? The Insurgency had fought for years, to no avail. They had Eve now, their new leader...but would she be any different from the leader before her? Was there anyone who could truly stop Matthews Enterprises? I glance out the window. The room looked out into the alley, so the view was obstructed by a brick wall...but it was different now. Someone had stuck a poster up, right outside the window...a poster that seemed to ask the question that would answer all my questions. About the world. About the past. About who could possibly stand up and make the change the world so desperately needed...



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Two weeks ago, I was put out of action with a minor concussion. I was told by the doctors not to compete for a week, "just to make sure."

They didn't say anything about getting some much wanted payback against a group of pompous British douchebags, did they?

So last week, I ran out there to help Corey Casey and Death-Angel from certain destruction. And in some ways it worked. Corey and Death were spared the numbers advantage favoring the Right Honorable Gentlemen. But then again...I wonder if they really needed my help at all. As soon as I showed up, i noticed it wasn't long before it was Corey saving MY ass from another crack from the cane.

That's not the point. The point is, this week, I'm cleared to compete. And I intend to take full advantage of it.

A lot of people have asked, "Chris...you were one of the best back in that other place...why aren't you in the main event? Aren't you angry that Corey Casey is getting the IWF Title shot against Brandon Macdonald, and you aren't?"

Not in the slightest.

See, two weeks ago, Brandon and I fought in the main event. I won't make any excuses. Some said Brandon was just really on top of his game. Others say I was just having a really shitty night. No matter how you slice it...Brandon Macdonald was the better man, and I have no problem saying it. If only for that one night, he was better than me. Do I think he could do it again? Who knows? It's entirely possible. Macdonald and I are, hands down, the greatest in the world today. Undisputed.

Now, I look at last week...I see that Brandon lost. I notice Corey walked a way with a victory. I also notice that Corey did not score any falls...nor did Brandon suffer any. That should be a hell of a match, I'm sure.

I have no problem with the fact that I'm not in the main event. My time will come. I waited a long tim for my first world title match in NLWF, and I have no issue doing it again in IWF.

What I DO have a problem with, is a clusterfuck of "gentlemen" sneaking in and attacking me from behind after a match. Not only that...but they managed to put me on the shelf for a week. Managed to hurt me bad enough that I couldn't compete last week. So this week, there will be no sneak attacks. There will be no attacking me after a match.

I've called out each and every one of you "Right Honorable Gentlemen." I beg you. I implore you. All five of you, come to the ring on Sunday, and fight me. You have the numbers advantage on your side. What do I have?

The confidence that I can beat any one of you when I have you in the ring against me. I don't care that I lost to Macdonald two weeks ago. I don't care if Darlington becomes the Full Throttle champion. I'll beat you all down. All five of you. However many decide to show up.

Why? Because I truly believe that there's nobody that can truly beat me. I've said in the past, if there's one thing I can't do well, it's lose. I don't take failure very well. Two weeks ago, I failed.

It will not happen again.

I am not my brother. I've heard it all week, "Chris, what's your plan? You might be fighting a five-on-one handicap match. What's your ace in the hole?"

That's the beauty of it. I don't have a plan. My brother prides himself on the "art of the plan." Sure, I've been called Chuck's intellectual equal...but I believe there's a place for thinking and strategizing, and the middle of a wrestling ring ain't it. Chuck is the general sitting in the tent, moving little toys around a map like a fucking chess game. Me? I'm the guy with a belt of grenades and an assault rifle, dropping in on the front line. And if I should die, you can be damn sure I'm taking as many of my enemies down with me as I can.

Right Honorable Gentlemen? You are my enemy.

You think I expect to win this match? You think I'm dumb enough to step up against five men expecting to dismantle every last one of you?

Of course, I fight to win. It's in my nature. I find myself in a fight, I fight until I can't do it anymore...but even I know when I'm stepping into a match I can't win.

The goal is simple. I step into that ring on Sunday. The gentlemen will step up against me.

At Demolition Day...we fight. Will I win? I'm sure as hell gonna try. Do I expect to? Not at all.

But I promise you, if I should lose, I will demolish as many of you fuckers as I can before I do.