The Doctor Who Died

Sat, 07/09/2011 - 17:11 by Shashank Awaru

The night was cold. Sitting on a wooden chair, with his face dumped inside a “BIO-CHEMISTRY” book, The Doctor suddenly looked up at his flickering study-light. Ah, must get a new one, he realized. Eventually I will, anyway, he promptly went back to reading again.

“It’s going to be a cold night!” he grumbled. Now, this Doctor was different, both in appearance and in his practice. He had a dark-tanned complexion and a towering figure - both in terms of height and weight. Scattered hair, huge glasses with twinkling eyes and always a dull expression, that was how The Doctor looked. His practice was different too. He always tried to achieve new heights of biological development in the human body. And he only used one test subject: Himself.

In the middle of the starry night, he kept on reading and reading with his flickering study-light. He suddenly stood up and let out a gasp. He had found what he wanted. All the years, all the hard work had finally paid off. That one simple line. How could he have forgotten? He ran towards his dusty bed and threw his pillows apart, looking hastily for his phone. He found it soon enough at the corner of the bed, under the heavy pillow. He grabbed it and opened the call list. He was searching for a name. My name. He slowly typed on the keypad: R-A-J-I-V.
 
I woke up suddenly, feeling the vibration by my ear. It felt like someone had pushed me into a deep hole filled with water and pulled me out in a heartbeat. Batting my eyes and struggling to see, I fished the cell phone out and sat up. “The Doctor calling”…. This wasn’t new. In fact, I was getting used to it now. His weird crazy hysterical moments were a part of my life and as his apprentice; I was supposed to enjoy them. Which I actually did.
 
“Come home. Fast.” And then the call got cut. He loved giving those stern short messages which made him feel like an army officer. Taking the hint I woke up, splashed some water on my face, put on some decent clothes, locked my room and walked steadily to my bike. Ah, The Doctor. When will his antics end? I thought as I sat on the bike and rode away.
 
Running up the stairs, I reached the door. Knocking slightly, I waited for an answer. Knocking again, this time a little harder, a soft voice spoke, “It’s open.” I pulled the handle down, gave the door a hard push and entered the room. What I saw shocked me to my very core.
 
The Doctor stood in the middle of the room, with both his eyeballs rolled up and three huge injections pierced into his skulls. Throwing my helmet down, I ran to help him when he looked down, saw me approaching and moved away.
 
“I am fine, Rajiv. How was the ride home?” He said calmly with a plastic smile on his face, pulling the empty syringes out.
 
“Great. Did you know that normal human beings sleep in the night, Sir?” I said, staring at his eyes with a hint of sarcasm.
 
“Yes. But there are things far greater than sleep, Rajiv. Now tell me, what are the metals used in bulletproof armor?” he said, slowly sitting on his chair.
 
“Umm ... Plastic jacket cover, Cellophane, tin sheets and the actual armor.”
 
“The metals, Rajiv! Metals used in your ACTUAL ARMOR.” He snapped.
 
“Steel? Iron? Titanium? Plutonium? Sleepy-heads?”, I said, laughing so hard the sound reverberated back into my ears.
 
“Yes. Make all the jokes you want Rajiv, you actually are right. We use steel. Unlike many armors where iron is still the main component, some armors use steel as the traditional shield covering it with all the other necessary objects needed to shape it into a vest. Now, can you tell me another property of steel related to the human body?”, he said, adjusting his glasses.
 
“No sir. I don’t care anymor. You pulled me out of my precious bed, just to ask me these questions? Good night.” I said, turning around, ready to walk out.
 
“Come on. Don’t be such a baby. Okay, I will tell you. Steel can be placed as a bone-outline in our body.”
 
“I know that, sir. It’s what we call Bone Outlining. Lining the bone with sensitive steel so that we can support it’s structure inside the body. We use it mainly in operations and serious surgeries, right? But what does all this have to do with me? Or my sleep?”, I said, looking confused.
 
“Ah. So you knew. Okay, Rajiv. Then you are about to see something wonderful. I am going to use both these properties together for the betterment of mankind. I am going to bullet-proof my bones.”
 
I walked back into the middle of the room. “That’s ridiculous, Doctor. And right now, you need some sleep. And so do I.”
 
“Think again.” He began. “What if we can process steel into such a high, refined plasmic state that we can run it through our bones? What if I already tried that and succeeded? What if when you entered, that was what I was injecting into my skull?”, he said, letting a small smile escape onto his lips. It wasn’t fake anymore.
 
“No Doctor, that’s impossible. Because the blood flow ….” He cut me short. “I did it, Rajiv. And I succeeded. Now you will see me showing it to you. Aren’t you glad I woke you up from your deep slumber? This is going to be one of your best nights”, he said as he walked back to his wooden table. He pulled out a pistol lying in the desk and pushed the cartridge out, it was full.
 
“Now, if in five minutes, Rajiv, I don’t wake up, you call the ambulance. If I do wake up, let’s go have some midnight Chinese food.” He swung the pistol up towards his head.
 
“Doctor. NO!” I shouted and ran toward him. But it was too late.
 
Placing the gun a little away from the forehead, The Doctor shot it straight into the middle of his temple. It pierced his skin open and blood began flowing. I stood there in complete silence, not knowing what to do. Now, theoretically, he was right. The steel could be injected and stacked into the head in such a way that we could actually have a steel skull that didn’t disrupt our bodily functions. But the complications involved were disastrous. And the dangers, if anything went wrong, ghastly. I kept pondering as I decided to give The Doctor the five minutes. If he was wrong, then it was already too late.
 
A small piece of metal crashed to the floor into the pool of blood like an answer into my face. The Doctor stood up slowly, still recovering from the mental haze.
 
“How the hell did you do it? What … ? When ….?” I talked, letting out heavy breaths in between.
 
“I am sorry. The skull goes numb for sometime as it reacts to the hit it takes. That’s why, I was out cold. Anyway, questions later. Food first.” He declared, pulling my hand out and pushing a small coin-shaped object into my hand.
 
A small pistol bullet, crumpled to the base stood in my hand. I stared at it, surprised.
 
Picking up a cotton swab and rolls of band-aids, The Doctor began fixing the tiny hole in his skin.
 
“Quite a night, huh, Rajiv? Anyway, where will we get good Chinese now?” He said, looking at me. 
 

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