The Imprint Ch. 03
 

Part 3 The Castle

Released from the hospital, I felt strange as I toyed with the hospital wrist band on my carpus (wrist). I thought like a doctor, but up to the point of release I was treated like a patient, a piece of meat, even though the Hospital President held the palmar side (palm) of my hand during the procedure.

My sleek light brunette 20 - year old secretary had an interesting observation on the God - complex. "You hide behind an incomprehensible blither of pseudo Latin to present yourself as God. At some point, you're only deceiving yourself."

It was a quick drive up the hill from the hospital where Mr Pauling, my lawyer assigned from the insurer, had picked me after a surgical procedure to extract a donated ovum. We were getting together this early to sign important papers in preparing my defence to a malpractice action and other charges brought by my former friend and roommate Erica Erickson.

How much did Mr Pauling need to know? I understood the need to control the information Mr Pauling received about the incident. No need to know the whole wretched details, Mr Pauling I decided only should know what was necessary to make my defence. I was a doctor. I had the God - image to preserve. We can do no wrong. The "truth" would be controlled.

What is control? Erica had said any woman can control a man. Even me, at 5 ' - 1" and 200 lbs. "Here's the deal, swing that rack of Double D, the guy will buckle, he will kneel, an obedient servant to Queen Bee."

Like Erica, Mr Pauling, I believe, blessed with a great memory and attention to detail, would have made a great teacher. Teacher, hmm, I mused, there was a time when I myself might have become a teacher.

As Mr Pauling turned onto Sparks Place, he remarked "Edgar Carleton Sparks, (1822 - 1895) one of the hoary, grizzly portraits on the wall in my former law firm, a founding partner of REMPH, SPARKS