WITH: @thomasmaeda WHERE: Residence Inn Hotel WHEN: May 4th, 2033
As if being in this sinful place wasn't humiliating enough, he and Thomas shared a room on the second floor of the hotel the residents called their base. Zaheer could not have even a moment in total, absolute privacy without Thomas lumbering in. And just then, he really wanted a moment in privacy. Still, when he heard footsteps, he sat up from where he'd been lying in bed. The ice pack he'd been holding over his face fell away to reveal a swiftly-forming black eye.
“It was an older gentleman,” he explained, though Thomas hadn't asked. “One of those types who believes the Outbreak ended the world and everything is terrible now. I was extracting a bullet from his side — training accident, aren’t guns horrible? And he asks for anesthetic. And I told him that anesthetic is sinful, that he should consider the pain a blessing and use it to reflect on what he did to provoke God to inflict this pain on him.”
Zaheer huffed, frowning down at his ice pack, which he was now squeezing between his hands like a stress ball. “Perfectly good advice, no? And he...ugh. He called me Purged trash and said he wanted another doctor! Well, now I was awfully heated, so I said no wonder he'd been shot, that God must despise him for talking about his people like that. And then he punched me!”
He sighed. “And then I was asked to leave for the day. I can’t imagine why. You know, we don't even have anesthetic!” The books he'd read had made him suspect that such a thing could be synthesized if he found the right plant...but even if he knew where to start, he wouldn't dare go against God’s will so blatantly. Being free from pain was not a medical necessity, in his opinion. Easy for the doctor to say. “Have you fared better than me today?”