Pulling The Dragon's Tail by Kenton Kauffman

north and east. Usually the conference room was the
cheeriest place at the clinic. However, the cloudy weather outside
reflected the gloomy atmosphere inside the room.
    Computer monitors were stationed on the table in
front of each chair. Next to each was a small holographic
projector. At the head of the table sat an empty chair. The
holographic projector next to it was currently downloading the
image of the Ellis Clinic’s director, Pablo Estefan Martinez.
    A jovial smile always seemed pasted to the face
of the director. To some of the staff, Martinez’s smile meant
friendliness, while for others it signaled a vacuous look. But,
with the download completed, everyone could plainly see that Pablo
Martinez was clearly not smiling. Buenos Aires, Argentina,
was his actual physical location, where he was ostensibly attending
a professional conference. A portly, middle-aged man of Mexican
descent, his thick black hair sat snugly under his favorite golf
cap, accented by the rich hues of a gaudy golf shirt.
    “In my eleven years as clinic director I have
never seen such blatant breaches of protocol! I don’t know where to
start!” Realizing the golf cap still graced his head, he gruffly
pulled it off, and tossed it out of view. Glancing around the room
he noted those in attendance.
    The Internet Holographic Conferencing site in
Buenos Aires had a somewhat poor connection, making all the figures
around the table appeared a bit grainy in texture to him. Likewise,
the holographic connection in the Ellis Clinic conference room was
poor, creating a somewhat incomplete picture of the director.
    Martinez continued, “Nurses who leave sensitive
doors open! And a patient able to hack into our computer system!”
Suddenly noting an empty chair, he said, “Where is Dr. Dev—”
    “Sorry I’m late, Pablo.” Campbell Devereaux
hastily sat down opposite him. A pause ensued as it took a few
seconds for her image to be fully downloaded and sent to the
director.
    “Dr. Devereaux, Mr. Kristopher is your patient!
Shouldn’t you have been providing better supervision to your
staff?”
    Campbell Devereaux sat erect, elbows forward on
the table with fingers clasped together supporting her chin. Her
mind raced, barely comprehending the director’s question.
     
    * * * * * *
     
    Moments before, her wrist computer had begun
beeping loudly. A computer voice spoke emphatically into her ear
microphone—URGENT MESSAGE IN MAILBOX—OPEN IMMEDIATELY. Leaving the
troublesome Mr. Kristopher with two psych techs, she had rushed to
her office. Placing her hand-held wrist computer into the main dock
of her desk computer, she called it up.
    Incredibly she was staring at an intense and
disheveled Nate Kristopher recording a video from inside his
patient bathroom. She recognized Keagan’s insistent voice in the
background. Nate Kristopher then turned to the camera and said,
“Dr. Devereaux, I know of no other way to get my point across.
Watch this video attachment. Mitchell Hilliard really did
it. He turned back aging.”
    Before she could even register an emotion, the
video file opened. Old footage of a snow-capped mountain range
loomed in the background. It was somewhat shaky; obviously taken by
an amateur. The panoramic view continued, and soon surveyed a deep
blue lake in the foreground.
    Then a voice from her past had spoken. “It’s
another beautiful July day here in the Canadian Northwest. We’re
here at our cabin at Lake Saskatchewa. My son and family are
staying for a week. Come on Campbell, let’s go fishin’!” The camera
panned over to a young brown haired girl with a pony tail and
freckles, busily skipping stones on the still lake. “Now, honey,
you’ll scare the fish away with those rocks,” chuckled the camera
person.
    “Okay, Grandpa. But if I catch any fish, you
have to promise to gut them. Fish guts are really yucky.” She made
a huge frown with her tongue stuck out to drive her point home.
    The footage seemed to have been