Healer

5

     Exhausted, covered in sweat, and thoroughly disheartened, Matt's next chore was moving all his belongings from his room into Imbago's. He protested that mightily on the grounds that it was completely inappropriate. He was a man. She was a woman. He'd put up with a lot since he'd been stolen away and carted off to the Foundation, but Matt was standing his ground on this issue.

     Half an hour later, Matt was curled up on his cot in Imbago's room. All his belongings fit into a single footlocker at the foot of his bed, mostly because he had nothing of his own. He'd gone through the trouble of bringing over all his clothing with the "ARTIFACT" label, only to have her take one look and dump it all down the incinerator chute. All he had to wear now were the same silly-looking grey one-piece pajama outfits that Pzinski and Walsh wore. At least she had gotten him new shoes, especially since the pair he'd been wearing had been ruined by mud while he, Pzinski, and Truman had run laps near the beach. He'd known he was out of shape. He'd had no idea he was that out of shape.

     "You have a very long way to go," Imbago announced. "Five miles and you can barely move?"

     Matt made a whimpering sound.

     She clicked her teeth. "You need to go and eat."

     "That would require moving," he whined. "I don't think I'm capable of doing that anymore. I used the last of my strength bringing my clothes in here that you burned."

     "Whine, whine, whine! Get up," she ordered. "You will do yourself no favors if you lie around now. You will only become stiff." When Matt didn't move, she sighed loudly, got up, and dragged him off the cot. "Up! Up!"

     "Would you please take your hands off of me?"

     "After you get up. Ah, see, you have no problem moving to shove at me, but you don't think you can move to stand? Up!"

     True to her word, once Matt was on his feet, Imbago let go of him. Matt considered letting himself collapse onto the floor. No. Too much pain. Besides, she'd probably kick him or something. Matt managed to stay standing, staring cooly at his tormentor.

     She looked back at him, unflinching. "Can I touch you now?"

     "Why?" he asked, suspicious.

     "Because you look as though you may fall over without support."

     "That wouldn't matter if you'd let me stay in bed," he pointed out crossly.

     She rolled her eyes. "Here, put your arm over my shoulders. Now I put my arm around you, and we go."

     Matt sighed, letting himself be assisted out the door. "Where are we going?"

     "To eat, and then you are due to work in medical."

     Matt sputtered. "You have got to be joking!"

     "No joke. How can you have perfect grades and not understand this? Healers must eat. Everyone knows this."

     "No, I mean about medical. You honestly think I can heal like this?"

     "After you eat," she said confidently, not slowing her pace.

     There was no more point arguing about this than there was anything else. They made their slow, painful progress down the hall toward the cafeteria. The ancient Dr. Hiw, walking hunched over with his pair of canes, gave Matt a look of pity as they got behind him in line at the cafeteria.

     Despite his abortive hunger strike and missing breakfast, Matt had little to no appetite. He picked through the offerings, taking a small piece of chicken and a little pile of vegetables.