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Origins

<< Back By Guybrush Threepwood
Since I have been adding to this document rather constantly I figure I ought to have an update log, so if your interested, there may be new stuff toward the end.

Last Update: May 05


Have you ever felt completely helpless? Watched in horror, powerless, as
the things most important to you were taken away in front of your eyes? I’ve never felt something as awful as this feeling of helplessness. If the death of my family was scarring, then my failure to protect her was mutilating.

    I was only fourteen when it happened, and many would say that makes me
faultless in the matter, but I’ve come to know better. It was my failure, is my failure. She lived on the outskirts of town, not far away from whereI stayed with the doctor. I remember her and the doctor spent a great deal of time together. I don’t really remember what she looked like, but I do know that she was a lovely woman, physically and in any other way imaginable. I would go to her house and do chores for her, and she would make me treats and tell me stories. She was older than I was, probably in her late twenties, but looking back I realize I had a crush on her. I never really imagined marrying her, never really thought about her
romantically, but I loved her. She was good to me, and as far as I knew was good to everyone.

    That day we were walking near her house, she was telling me a story about a boy and a water girl. Near the river we came across five men from town who were clearly drunk. They started to shout at her as we went by, saying things I didn't necessarily understand, but I knew that they weren't good. When we got closer they started to walk along side of us, they started to reach out toward her, and she pushed their hands away. This just made them angry. They started yelling at her and pushing her. I tried to get between them but they pushed me away.

    That's when she slapped one of them, and I saw hell. Got to experience a little part of it myself. The men hit her, and threw her down. I got up and kicked one of them that was bent over her as hard as I could in the head, and he went down. I started to punch one of the other men in the back, but he just turned around and hit me. I fell down and he kept coming. He began kicking me. I tried to get up, but I couldn't. He kicked me one more time before leaving me, and that's when I noticed that the noises of her screams were getting farther away.
   
    I managed to lift my head to see the back of the man who'd beaten me, and the man I had kicked earlier walking toward me, but I couldn't see her. I started screaming, but the man coming towards me kicked me hard in the face. I don't remember much after this, just that I was being hit, over and over again. Eventually the man left me there, but I couldn't move. I struggled to retain consciousness. I had to stay conscious, I had to wait for someone, had to get help. Slowly the grip of nothingness took me.

    I woke back in the doctors home. I learned that she had been found dead not far from where the doctor had found me. They didn't tell me exactly what happened, but they didn't have to. A week later my jaw had healed enough for me to talk, and I told the doctor what had happened.

    “So boy, what is it you want from me now?” the doctor sighed. “What do you want from life? You want to be coddled, or do you want to become a man? You want to hear the truth or do you just want to be comforted?”

    I sat in the bed terrified. Of course I wanted to hear the truth, I loved truth. But I wanted to be comforted too, why couldn't it be both? Didn't I deserve to be comforted now? Didn't I deserve to hear the truth? “I want the truth. I always want the truth, I want to be a doctor, like you.”

    “You don't know what that means boy. You don't really know what a doctor is. A doctor is a man who takes an oath to save people, all people, from everything.  Being a doctor means living for everyone else, all the time and doing everything in your power to do what you can for them, and if it's not in your power, then you should have been stronger. You can never go above and beyond as a doctor. Even if one day you manage to save everyone, no one is hurt, that day you have simply done what is your duty, no more. You don't deserve anything, you haven't earned anything, do you understand? Do you know what that means boy? You failed. You failed that day. You failed to protect her, and she had to pay the price.”

    “But I, I, I'm just a kid,” I sobbed “what could I do? I tried, I did everything I could, I really did try. I promise I did.” I wanted him to understand, I wanted him to not think it was my fault, I needed for him to not hate me.

    He patted me on the head. “It's not just your fault, it's equally my fault. I didn't save her either. But boy, there are children in this world that could do amazing things. Kids half your age that can kill everyone in this village without any effort at all. Some of that is available to you, and you don't have it. That's your fault.”

    “I don't know what you mean. I've never heard of this, I didn't know! I-”
   
    “And you didn't ask,” he said sternly. “It's out there, and you may not have known it, but it could have saved her.”

    He looked down at me, and I said nothing. “Well then, if that's that. You have a lot of healing ahead of you. When you're better we'll start.”

***************************************************************************************

    A month later I had healed to the point where I could move around, and the doctor taught me his first lesson. It is the lesson I most vividly remember, and the most disturbing.

    “Boy, it is time for you to begin your training. Some sick men have come to me today, and I want you there when I help them.” I nodded and he continued. “Sometimes people's own body begins to cause issues, and this part needs to be removed in order to prevent further harm. As a doctor, having to perform this surgery is a failure, the surgery causes harm to the individual, however it is often necessary for the overall good of the patient,” his eyes turned dark as he finished the sentence, “and sometimes for those around them.”

    Something about him scared me, and I simply followed him through the home to where he kept his equipment and did his practice. He opened the door and stepping inside I saw five men, tied naked to five chairs in the room and gagged. I recognized the men as the men from the river.

    I looked to him questioningly, but I said nothing. They looked around at one another fearful, and struggled against there bonds, but they accomplished nothing.

    The doctor turned to me. “These men all have a very similar problem, and we are going to fix it,” he said, grabbing a scalpel from the table. “Do you want to do the removal? Or would you like to clean the area afterward and stop the bleeding?”

    “What do you mean? What are you going to do?”

    “We are going to make sure that these men don't cause problems for themselves.” He then muttered quietly, “Some of them already have children, which is a shame.”

    I stepped back toward the doorway, for the first time in my life scared of the doctor. “I don't know what you are talking about. The constable should-”

    “No boy,” he said sternly, grabbing my arm and dragging me further into the room painfully, “if you want to be a doctor you will have to make decisions of your own. The constable has done nothing for this issue, these men we roaming town drunk again last night. We can't let what happened again recur. It is a doctor's job to help everyone, all of the time. In this we will fail, every day we will fail. We must simply aim for the greatest good possible. This though, requires us to take things into our own hands. We must make decisions on right and wrong, good and bad. This is what it means to be a doctor, this is what you will have to do if you truly want to help others.”

    I was shaking. “I'm scared,” I told him.

    “It's ok to be scared, but you need to be able to make a choice. Do you want to be a doctor?”

    I nodded fearfully.

    “Do you want to remove, or to sew? I might suggest removal, as the process of closing the wound is instrumental to the patient's health.”

    That night I performed surgery on five men. Two men and three individuals left that room. I had been shaking so bad that I made some mistakes that even the doctor could not fix. This was the first of many of the doctor's lessons. Most of his lessons were medical, but many would not necessarily fall under that category. Under him I learned a great many things, the ability to diagnose a persons illness (not always physical), the ability to treat an individual, surgically or medicinally, and the ability to defend myself with a blade. At the age of seventeen I began my travels to find any information of use in helping people. I have begun to understand in my journeys that any information can be of use, and as such have developed a great thirst for knowledge.
 
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