extraordinary.
“Yes, we are friends Luke,” Eli said as tears filled his eyes. “In fact,
although I haven’t known you very long and we don’t actually spend much time
together, you are in many ways, closer to me than people I’ve known for most of
my life. Why is that?”
I sat quietly thinking for a few long moments. “I know what
you feel,” I said. “I feel it too.” Eli didn’t know it but I was thinking about
the differences between humans and Ranjisi. Ranjisi don’t often cry, but we do
feel things. Ranjisi have a highly developed sense of awareness. We often tune
into the feelings and emotions of others. I didn’t think it would be possible
to feel what a human was feeling but the feelings were actually more intense
than with other Ranjisi. I wondered if it was because humans were more
emotional than Ranjisi.
“If you truly know what I feel, than you know my big
secret,” Eli said.
“Of course I do. I don’t think it’s a secret to anyone who
cares about you.” I paused for another awkward moment. “I wish that it was a
choice. I wish that I could make is so.” It was all too overwhelming for me. I
just flopped down in the chair and put my head between my knees. The feeling of
despair was so intense I felt as if I couldn’t move. Here was a friend
suffering. I could help him. I knew exactly what to do. I could give him his
wish and help him to pass on in comfort and with dignity, and yet I could not.
I was bound by commitment to the CIPE oath. Eli reached for my hand and I took
it in mine. I wished the tears could flow like a human. I wondered if it would
give me a feeling of relief. But there were no tears, just a devastating
feeling of helplessness.
When Eli’s parents and younger sister walked into the room,
I was holding his hand with my face still between my knees and Eli was sobbing.
Eli’s parents looked a little startled. Eli wiped his face and looked up at his
parents. “Luke and I have become friends. If things were different, maybe we
could start a band,” Eli said.
I forced myself to stand up and say goodbye. “I’ll see you
Wednesday Eli,” I said as I smiled at Eli’s parents and left the room.
That night I didn’t sleep at all. Ranjisi are not too
different than humans. We need as much sleep as any race I was familiar with. I
assumed that all higher life forms needed sleep to survive, but I went to work
the next day with no sleep at all. My supervisor Connie said I looked terrible
and she asked me if I was out partying all night. Connie was born and raised in
New York City. She lived right downtown and never learned to drive a car. She
was pleasant enough although she never talked about anything too personal. I
guessed that she wanted to maintain some distance between herself and other
hospital staff.
“Some nights I just have trouble sleeping,” I said. “I
really don’t party or drink. I mostly just read or listen to music.” Connie
gave me a half-hearted smile and handed me three assignments. By the time I
finished them, she had six more so I stayed busy all day. That night I figured
since I was so exhausted, I would be able to sleep but sleep just wouldn’t
come.
In the morning I went to the shower, bleary eyed with one
burning thought: I wanted to end Eli’s suffering. I thought about contacting
Frank and asking for some kind of special permission to break protocol. I
decided against it but I wasn’t sure why. I wondered if somewhere deep in my
subconscious I was actually thinking of performing Tseen Ke on Eli. If it did
come to that, it would be wiser not to let anyone know I had been agonizing
over the CIPE golden rule: Do NOT interfere with human life.
Two weeks later Eli stopped going for treatments. He was
getting ready to be released from the hospital. I stopped by his room early to
say goodbye. Eli hugged me from his wheelchair and handed me his address. “If
you feel up to it,” Eli said, “Stop by. We can rock out until it’s time.”
“Yes, we are friends Luke,” Eli said as tears filled his eyes. “In fact,
although I haven’t known you very long and we don’t actually spend much time
together, you are in many ways, closer to me than people I’ve known for most of
my life. Why is that?”
I sat quietly thinking for a few long moments. “I know what
you feel,” I said. “I feel it too.” Eli didn’t know it but I was thinking about
the differences between humans and Ranjisi. Ranjisi don’t often cry, but we do
feel things. Ranjisi have a highly developed sense of awareness. We often tune
into the feelings and emotions of others. I didn’t think it would be possible
to feel what a human was feeling but the feelings were actually more intense
than with other Ranjisi. I wondered if it was because humans were more
emotional than Ranjisi.
“If you truly know what I feel, than you know my big
secret,” Eli said.
“Of course I do. I don’t think it’s a secret to anyone who
cares about you.” I paused for another awkward moment. “I wish that it was a
choice. I wish that I could make is so.” It was all too overwhelming for me. I
just flopped down in the chair and put my head between my knees. The feeling of
despair was so intense I felt as if I couldn’t move. Here was a friend
suffering. I could help him. I knew exactly what to do. I could give him his
wish and help him to pass on in comfort and with dignity, and yet I could not.
I was bound by commitment to the CIPE oath. Eli reached for my hand and I took
it in mine. I wished the tears could flow like a human. I wondered if it would
give me a feeling of relief. But there were no tears, just a devastating
feeling of helplessness.
When Eli’s parents and younger sister walked into the room,
I was holding his hand with my face still between my knees and Eli was sobbing.
Eli’s parents looked a little startled. Eli wiped his face and looked up at his
parents. “Luke and I have become friends. If things were different, maybe we
could start a band,” Eli said.
I forced myself to stand up and say goodbye. “I’ll see you
Wednesday Eli,” I said as I smiled at Eli’s parents and left the room.
That night I didn’t sleep at all. Ranjisi are not too
different than humans. We need as much sleep as any race I was familiar with. I
assumed that all higher life forms needed sleep to survive, but I went to work
the next day with no sleep at all. My supervisor Connie said I looked terrible
and she asked me if I was out partying all night. Connie was born and raised in
New York City. She lived right downtown and never learned to drive a car. She
was pleasant enough although she never talked about anything too personal. I
guessed that she wanted to maintain some distance between herself and other
hospital staff.
“Some nights I just have trouble sleeping,” I said. “I
really don’t party or drink. I mostly just read or listen to music.” Connie
gave me a half-hearted smile and handed me three assignments. By the time I
finished them, she had six more so I stayed busy all day. That night I figured
since I was so exhausted, I would be able to sleep but sleep just wouldn’t
come.
In the morning I went to the shower, bleary eyed with one
burning thought: I wanted to end Eli’s suffering. I thought about contacting
Frank and asking for some kind of special permission to break protocol. I
decided against it but I wasn’t sure why. I wondered if somewhere deep in my
subconscious I was actually thinking of performing Tseen Ke on Eli. If it did
come to that, it would be wiser not to let anyone know I had been agonizing
over the CIPE golden rule: Do NOT interfere with human life.
Two weeks later Eli stopped going for treatments. He was
getting ready to be released from the hospital. I stopped by his room early to
say goodbye. Eli hugged me from his wheelchair and handed me his address. “If
you feel up to it,” Eli said, “Stop by. We can rock out until it’s time.”
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