ER (Casey)
ER (Casey);
Scene; Casey Station – Splinters Bar, 1710 Friday – well into station wide knockoff. A world weary and prematurely aged mid-thirties doctor gratefully opens his allocated beer for the evening. Thoughts of technical glitches, inventory management and impending resupply slip from his mind as he wistfully listens to Splinters heavily rotated AC/DC playlist. He gazes at the vista of icebergs dancing in their blue and white grace to the west of station.
His brow furrows, a hair on his forearm stands up, he blinks ... turning to see the outgoing Mechanical Supervisor with a wild and wide-eyed look burst through Splinters doors. Their eyes lock, in that instant the he knew this would be the first ‘emergency’ of the season. He places his untouched beverage down, brow furrow deepening. Scenarios flick through his mind as he hurries to follow the SMS downstairs, the wails echo upwards, dark thoughts circle his mind like vultures, he brushes them away, refocusing, girding his loins.
Descending the stairs the scene unfolds, operatic. Station Stores officer Cliffy with trauma shears in hand turns, the late afternoon sun glints off the steel, momentarily blinding the greying doctor. He blinks again, eyes clearing – Brooke the Cook cradles her hand, the wailing ceases, the lower wallow enveloped by a hush, the SSO’s grin is one he recognises, one of relish, victory, bloody perseverance. The cook's unmutilated finger – now released from the self-inflicted trap of its piping bag cage waggles unharmed. The SSO’s eyes gleam with triumph, the doctor exhales, his anxieties evaporate, only to be replaced in an instant with an indescribable envy – his thunder, his moment to shine, his victory had been stolen. The SSO smiles, blithely she pats the enfeebled doctor on the back and marches upstairs – the doors of Splinters open before her. A conquering heroine.
The creaking doctor limps after her, his beer is now warm.
