NOTE: Any medical terminology/procedures in this chapter come from either a Google search or from what has been shown on television. Do not--I repeat, DO NOT--take anything in this chapter as medical advice or fact.
"I guess I'll be a doctor," Andy said. "Might as well be creative." The amulet suspended from his neck seemed to get a bit warmer for a brief moment, but the heat vanished as quickly as it came. Andy looked down at the object in confusion, but he simply shrugged and went off to begin working on his costume.
--Across Town--
Meanwhile, in his office clear on the other side of town, Mitch was finishing off his presentation that he had to show at his meeting in just a couple of hours. In his state of severe concentration, he didn't even notice that he was saying what he was typing out loud.
"And that's why an increase in the productivity of... of...." Mitch trailed off, suddenly unsure of what he was talking about. Rubbing his forehead in frustration, he muttered, "Ugh, what was I about to say again...?" Taking another look at the computer screen, he realized that half of what he was saying was a bit unclear to him. Well, then again, he never was good at the management side of things. He preferred to leave that to the people who actually knew what they were doing. So what exactly was he doing working in a management position, then?
Startled at the sudden thought, Mitch shook his head to clear his mind. "What am I talking about?" he asked himself softly. He was as competent as any other worker in his office, so why did he suddenly doubt his skill set so much? Wanting to take his mind off of such strange thoughts, he focused his attention back on the script in front of him. While he was engrossed in re-reading the script to figure out what it was saying, he didn't notice the carpet changing to tile right underneath his feet. The tile quickly spread across the office, and soon enough, the entire floor was made out of cool, milky-white ceramic. Then, the office itself began to change, its rooms rearranging, its walls expanding and contracting, and its contents shifting and changing to provide an environment suitable for the hospital that the building was quickly becoming. As the changes spread to other floors, Mitch, exhausted from reading the document as thoroughly as he could, sighed and rested his face in his hands in defeat.
"God, what is wrong with me today?" Before he could do anything else, however, a voice came over the P.A. system (wait, since when did they have a P.A. system in place?).
"Code Red in Bay One! Code Red in Bay One!" the voice shouted. Mitch stared at the speaker on his office ceiling in consternation. Code Red? What was this, a hospital? Just then, a group of three or four people came rushing past his door, though their attire was less than suitable for an office environment. They were wearing what appeared to be medical scrubs. Mitch suddenly got a strong urge to follow them, and before he knew it, he was running right behind the group. As he ran, he noticed that for some reason, the building seemed unfamiliar to him. Something was telling him, though, that he had walked these halls many times before, and he began to believe it the farther he went.
After a few seconds, the group finally arrived in a large room with a wooden counter directly to the left of the hallway from which they had come. Behind the counter were people that looked vaguely familiar to Mitch, but more pressing were the seven or eight different "rooms" lined up along the right wall. Really, they were just a series of heavy curtains that served to section the patients off from the rest of the world, but they worked nonetheless. The group arrived at Bay One in the far right corner of the room, and they pulled back the curtain to reveal the patient. Her face was cherry red and swollen, as was her throat. Mitch was about to freak out at the sight of it, but some part of him suddenly stepped forward, somehow knowing that he was dealing with a severe allergic reaction. Before Mitch could even begin thinking about what to do, his body seemed to go on autopilot. It was evident that she had no pulse, both from the code and from the heart monitor attached to her. Despite himself, he began barking out instructions.
"Jake, begin CPR. Ally, get her intubated. Sarah, start an epinephrine drip, 0.15 milligrams over the next 10 minutes," Mitch ordered quickly, not noticing that as he was doing so, his dress shirt and pants were lightening in color and changing material, changing into light blue medical scrubs as his tie vanished into oblivion. As the nurses scrambled to start their individual tasks, Mitch stepped off to the side as he realized what he had just done. Shocked at what had come out of his mouth, he could do nothing but mutter, "What the hell did I just say?"
Just then, his head began to ache as new thoughts and memories infiltrated his mind. He remembered graduating from college near the top of his class and entering medical school the next summer, maintaining a long-distance relationship with his then-girlfriend, Karissa, starting his residency at Good Hope Hospital.... Knowledge of the anatomy and physiology of the human body flooded his mind, as did information of various diseases, what medicines will counteract them, what medicines should not be taken together, and various other knowledge important for a physician to have in store. Perhaps more importantly, however, more memories of Karissa entered his mind: their college dates, the struggles they had faced while they were apart....
So enraptured in these newfound memories was Mitch that he didn't even notice as his body grew to a height of 5'11", nor did he notice as his shoulders broadened slightly to match his new persona. His face rearranged itself a little to showcase its more attractive features, and his hair receded slightly into his scalp as his body aged, leaving him with a slightly-spiked hairstyle--yes, even at 30, he still cared about his looks. A ring appeared around his right ring finger as Mitch remembered his and Karissa's wedding; he couldn't help but smile at the memory. As the memories came to a close, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his black blazer, and his dress shoes and socks morphed into those more suitable for a hospital environment. Two white spots appeared on his blazer where his hands' knuckles came into contact with the material. The color quickly spread across the thing, turning it into a white overcoat that extended down to just above his knees. To top off the transformation, the words "Mitch Zanden, M.D." inscribed themselves on the left breast of his coat in blue cursive stitch.
"Dr. Zanden!" a voice called, snapping the young doctor out of his reverie. Knowing that the girl's allergic reaction was under control, he turned to the source of the sound, which happened to be the nurse at the front desk, who currently had a look of confusion on her face.
"Yes?" he asked, stepping out of the room.
"We have a new patient arriving in two. Something about a camp stove? Anyway, his vitals are fine. He's conscious, but he's apparently in a lot of pain." The doctor, too, was confused by this. Then again, he supposed, it probably wasn't anything stranger than he had already seen in his four years of working at the Good Hope E.R.
"All right," he replied half-jokingly. "We'd better start getting ready, then. Sounds like this one's gonna be interesting."