It seemed like hours before she heard
the sirens. The crash, she barely remembered, but the car was a twisted
wreck, and broken glass was everywhere. She knew she had at east one bad
cut. The children were crying. But now the Emergency Medical Technicians
were there. It was going to be all right.
"You've lost quite a bit of blood,
ma'am," said the EMT.
"The children?"
"They've both lost some, too. The
girl's a little worse than the boy. But not as bad as you. Otherwise, they're
ok. Good thing you all had your seat belts on."
"Can you get started on blood transfusions
now?" she asked.
"Oh, no," said the EMT. "We'll do
our best to stop the bleeding, but you need to go in to your local blood
center and apply. I'd do that as soon as possible, if I were you."
"Excuse me? Apply? While I'm bleeding
to death?"
"Afraid so. Since the Personal Responsibility
and Bodily Fluids Reconciliation Act, also known as Blood Bank Reform,
we don't just give the stuff away to anybody. You have to prove your worthiness
and demonstrate that you're ready to take responsibility for your own blood
and stop being a leech."
"But I'm weak. I don't have a working
car anymore..."
"Yeah, everyone's got a boatload of
excuses. I think I've heard them all. How come the rest of us can keep
our blood in our bodies? Huh? Well, I've done my job. Bye!"
First came the Long Trek, followed
by the Frantic Search. The blood center was hidden away behind a fast-food
restaurant in an unmarked building. Nevertheless, it was overflowing with
people, most of them bleeding, many already passed out, some already past
the need for blood. Janitors scurried back and forth, disposing of the
corpses.
"I need to see someone immediately,"
she pleaded. "My children and I need blood."
Some of the prospective blood bank
clients looked at her with suspicion and hostility. A few showed a fugitive
sympathy. No one said a word.
"Please! What am I supposed to do?"
One man mumbled something and gestured
with his one mobile arm.
"What?"
"Forms," he said. "Over there."
There were seven different forms,
each requiring multiple copies. Some were next to illegible. Some were
confusing and contradictory. All carried dire warnings of the swift and
sure punishment that awaited the Giver of False Information.
After the Forms came the Long Line.
At the end of the Long Line was the Incoherent Clerk.
"Please! We need to see somebody!"
"Mumble mumble mumble."
"Wait over there?"
Yes, that was it.
After the Incoherent Clerk came the
Long Wait, followed by the Long, Boring Video, which explained to the assembled
miscreants their many shortcomings. Then came the Longer Wait. Finally,
after what could have been hours or days, came the Caseworker ...
"So," said the Caseworker. "Couldn't
hold onto your blood, eh? Do you make a habit of this?"
"No. There was an accident. It wasn't
my fault..."
"It's never your fault, is
it? Well, have you had a transfusion in the last five years?"
"No. Never."
"Hmm. Okay, let's see how much blood
you have left. Still able to stand? Well, that's too much. You're ineligible.
Good day!"
"But I'm bleeding."
"Come back tomorrow, and we'll check
again. Maybe you'll be eligible then."
"But I may not be alive by tomorrow."
"Then the problem will have solved
itself, won't it?"
"What about my children? They're bleeding,
too."
"Well, that is a different
story. Not their fault they have a blood-sucker for a parent. Not that
I would expect them to turn out any better, mind you. The platelets never
squirt far from the vein."
"Thank you," she said. "From me and
my husband."
"What! There's a man in the house?
Let him get your blood for you! Why are you trying to leech off the blood
donors?"
"Governor! Governor! Is it true that
the contract has been awarded?"
"Why have you called this press conference
at such an unusual hour?"
The hall was abuzz with reporters.
The aides gestured vainly for order, but it was not until the Governor
mounted the podium that the noise finally subsided.
"I have good news for you today,"
said the Governor, flashing his famous boyish smile. "The era of unrestrained
blood-sucking is over. The burden has been lifted from the backs and the
cardiovascular systems of the people. I am pleased to announce that the
Blood Bank contract has been awarded to an excellent private firm that
will provide efficient, professional management of the entire Blood Bank
program. This will free the Government and the People from the heavy burden
we have borne these many years as a result of the selfish and irresponsible
leeches among us."
"Governor! Why midnight?"
The Governor chuckled. "It is my signal
honor to introduce to you the Chief Executive Officer of Blood Recycling
Systems International. He will explain everything. I leave it to the Count
to announce the dawning of a new day in Blood Bank Reform. Count?"
A tall, dignified gentleman in a long,
black cape ascended the podium, shook the Governor's hand, and briefly
eyed his neck with an air of professional curiosity.
"Good evening," said the Count. He
had a faint foreign accent. "If it is all the same to the Governor, I vill
announce the rising of a new moon, rather than the dawning of a new day.
Allow me to explain to you the BRSI Two Point Plan. 'BRSI' is vat ve call
our company. Short for 'Blood Recycling Systems International,' you see.
But I vill explain the Two Point Plan. I vant you to get the point. Or
the points. Ha, ha. A small joke. Forgive me. Here are the two points:
take the blood and use it. Simple, straight-forward, and cheap. My colleagues
and I vill take care of everything. Ve vill lay off all of the phlebotomists,
lab personnel, qvestion-askers, and so forth. It vill cost you nothing
and save you a bundle. Any qvestions?"
"Why are we meeting at midnight?"
"I find the night more congenial.
It is ... cooler. Ha, ha."
"If you fire the people who interrogate
the donors, who is going to ensure the quality of the blood?"
"Do not vorry. My colleagues vill
ask the qvestions. They have a, uh, personal stake in the qvality of the
blood."
"Governor, has anyone checked out
the qualifications of the Count or his company to perform this function?"
The Governor looked insulted. "The
Count is an upstanding member of the international business community.
I will not subject him to this sort of innuendo. Count, please don't take
this question as a reflection on you."
"How could I?" asked the Count graciously.
"Count! Do we still get to humiliate
the bloodsuckers?"
"Vat?" The Count seemed surprised
and offended.
"You know," the questioner persisted.
"Those lazy blood cheats."
"Ah," said the Count, catching on.
"Of course, of course. Vatever you need to validate your existence ..."
"Gee," said the donor nervously. "The
blood bank is a lot gloomier than it used to be. Of course, I never gave
blood after dark before."
The phlebotomist smiled toothily.
"It's for your own convenience," she said. "A lot of donors can't come
during the day."
"I see. Aren't you going to look at
my arms to find the best vein?"
"Oh, no," laughed the phlebotomist.
"That's the old way. Just turn your head a little."
"Aren't you going to ask if I want
a shot of xylocaine first? I do prefer having the area numbed."
"Another obsolete procedure," said
the phlebotomist. "Don't worry. This won't hurt. Besides, I'm allergic
to xylocaine."