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Dr. Gold comes ambling back. He’s not concerned, just curious. “The subject. Adam. He’s not there anymore.”
– 39 –
Evening has disappeared. It takes me a while to realize this.
In the meantime, I’m getting medical attention. A doctor named Johanna has detected a possible irregularity which requires her to listen to my heartbeat. This requires me to take off my shirt. I’m sitting on a gurney with the curtains drawn around us but other doctors and nurses—Adele, Laura, Stephanie, and Steve—crowd in to assist.
“How old are you?” Dr. Adele asks.
“That depends,” I answer. “Do you mean what is my apparent age? Or my actual age?”
“I just want to know if you’re over the age of consent,” Dr. Adele says, and the others laugh nervously. She frowns. “What is the age of consent, anyway?”
“Eighteen,” someone says.
“I don’t suppose you’re eighteen, are you?” Dr. Stephanie says.
“Eighteen hours,” I say helpfully. “Depending where you count from.”
“He looks eighteen,” Nurse Steve says.
The curtain slides back. It’s Evening and a girl.
I have seen the girl in my memory. Her name is Aislin.
“Really?” Evening says, glaring at Dr. Adele, who lowers her stethoscope and mumbles something I can’t hear.
“It’s … oh my God, it’s you.” Aislin seems to be surprised in some way.
“Come on, Adam, let’s go,” Evening says.
“It’s you,” Aislin repeats.
“Yes. It is me,” I say. I suspect that is close to being a joke. “I am Adam. Adam…”
It occurs to me that I don’t know my last name. All the doctors have last names. I can see them on their name tags. Obviously, people have them, and I am people, therefore I should have one. But Terra Spiker has not put that bit of information in my head.
“Let’s go!” Evening says impatiently.
But I’m frozen in place. The enormity of it. The strangeness of it. There are people all around me and each of them has a last name.
How dare they create me and not even give me a name?
“What’s my last name?” I demand.
“What? Who cares?” Evening snaps. “We have to go!”
Another doctor appears. He stares at Evening. He looks down at her leg. Up at her face. She recognizes him.
“You’re Evening Spiker,” he says.
“Right. Um, good to, uh … You treated me, didn’t you?”
“You’re walking?”
“I am,” she says.
