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  “Doctor! Oh, doctor, please!” a woman pleaded desperately. “It’s my husband, you see. He badly cut himself and we’ve been waiting for hours—"

  “I’m not a doctor,” Ami Mizuno corrected the woman coldly before continuing on her way. She despised these occasional calls for consults in the hospital’s ER for this very reason. People would spot her white lab coat and just assume that she was a medical doctor. Well, she wasn’t! That particular career path had only ever been a pipe dream—the foolish pursuit of an idealistic child. No, she had grown out of that phase a long time ago.

  Ami was a scientist, a celebrated one at that, working in the university hospital’s research wing, where she led a small team. Despite her young age, she had made several high-profile discoveries, her research papers were well-received, and she had even profited from the sale of an ingenious and wildly popular wrist-worn communication device design. All in all, she had become something of a prized commodity for the hospital.

  It was days like these, though, when Ami regretted her choice of employment. She found the idea of having to remove her coat in certain areas of the hospital to avoid being mistaken for a doctor vexing. After all, it was her glasses that she wore on a chain around her neck, not a stethoscope! Still, as she arrived at the ER reception desk, she couldn’t help wondering whether she may have been short with the woman from before. Now, she had a pang of guilt to contend with on top of everything else, which only vexed her further.

  “I was called for a consult with Dr. Sato,” Ami informed the receptionist.

  “Ah, Dr. Mizuno, thanks for coming,” said a young, male doctor within earshot enthusiastically. He was a short man with slicked back hair and an eager grin, clutching a clipboard. “I’m having trouble diagnosing a patient’s infection, and I read your recent article about the treatment of rare viral cases. I wondered whether it might be related?”

  Ami sighed. There was almost no chance of the two being connected. The subject of her research was extraterrestrial, after all. She had adjusted the data somewhat to disguise that fact, but it was still a foolish assumption for someone to make. It was beyond annoying that she had to assist simpering colleagues such as this with their own jobs, but she held her tongue and went through the motions, consulting the patient’s chart as they made their way over to his bed.

  The man was lying down with his exposed leg raised and appeared to be in considerable pain. His foot had a small cut on it and was covered in a blotchy rash. Ami rolled her eyes upon recognizing the symptoms and immediately diagnosing such an obvious and dangerous infection.

  “Did you take a history?” Ami asked the doctor abruptly.

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  “Well, no, the gentleman is in a lot of pain, so I thought it best to treat him as soon as possible, and as I said, I think it may be related to your article—”

  “It isn’t,” said Ami plainly, “and if you had taken a full and thorough history, I expect you would have known that.” Dr. Sato blushed as Ami addressed the patient directly, “Sir, have you been traveling recently?”

  “Well, yeah, but not abroa—” the patient started.

  “Have you visited the beach?”

  “Yeah, how did you kn—”

  “This cut on your foot, how did you get it?”

  “What, that little one? At the beach, I guess. We were playing in the lagoons, and I slipped. Scraped it on a rock or a shell. It’s my whole leg that hurts, though.”

  Ami turned back to Dr. Sato and raised her eyebrows expectantly. After a few moments, she saw no comprehension dawn on the young man’s face and gave up on the teachable moment. She handed him back the patient’s chart, and said sternly, “Call your supervisor, inform him or her that you are never to contact me directly again, and that this man has an urgent case of Necrotizing Fasciitis. Do so quickly, and you may be able to save his leg, and perhaps your career.”

  Ami marched away while shaking her head, leaving Dr. Sato looking flabbergasted and his patient panic-stricken. Out of the corner of her blue eyes, she saw several patients looking in her direction yearnfully or motioning toward her, but kept her gaze focused ahead and walked with purpose to the elevators, vaguely aware of her long dark hair brushing her back with each determined stride. She hated her hair long, but with any luck, she would finally be able to cut it soon.

  After a quick elevator ride, Ami arrived at her lab, where her small team of research assistants greeted her eagerly as she crossed it and into her private office. Some did so with cheer in their voices, others with fear. Ami didn’t respond. She had already said “Good Morning” earlier that day. It was ridiculous to give a greeting every time they crossed paths, even if her sycophantic team insisted on doing so.

  Ami closed the door of her office and was immediately thankful for the solitude. She slumped into her large leather chair, leaned back, and closed her eyes. Her moment of relief was interrupted, however, by the ringing of her office phone.

  Ami took a deep breath, picked up the receiver, and answered curtly, “Yes?”

  “Ah, Dr. Mizuno, I’m glad I caught you!”

  Ami groaned internally upon recognizing the voice of Dr. Kuga, the hospital’s Director of Research, who had been hounding her over budgetary concerns. “Hello, Dr. Kuga. What can I do for you?” she responded politely.

  “I wanted to tell you that I was most impressed with your latest paper and the press it’s garnering for the hospital,” Dr. Kuga began. “However, Dr. Mizuno, I’ve just received the latest financial report for your team, and your spending is simply out of control! All this new equipment? And this is on top of all your recent funding applications!”

  “I see,” Ami replied. “Well, as you know, I’m doing important work here, Dr. Kuga. Work that in the long-term, will more than cover any expenditure concerns—should I choose to stay with the hospital once my contract comes up for renewal.”

  “Yes, well, even so—what’s that now?” the man stammered. “‘choose to stay,’ you say? Whatever do you mean by that, my dear?”

  “Oh, nothing. It’s just that I’ve received a rather lucrative offer from one of our rivals,” Ami explained coolly. “I hadn’t really considered it, of course, but they have been quite persistent, and the offer is very generous….”

  Ami took the following few moments of silence on the other end of the phone as a good sign.

  “Now, now, err, I’m sure we can come to an amicable arrangement. We certainly wouldn’t want to lose you! I’ll see about approving your requests, but if you could just bear our budget restraints in mind over the next quarter?”

  Ami smiled smugly. “I’ll be sure to do that, Dr. Kuga. Thank you for calling,” she informed her superior, then put the phone down without giving him a chance to speak again. Ami knew how valuable she was to the hospital and that she could get away with this kind of behavior, provided she continued to produce results.

  In truth, though, her place at the hospital was a mutually beneficial arrangement. It was a symbiotic relationship whereby she needed them as much as they needed her. The revenue it brought in, the prestige it afforded her, and the easy access to technology were all essential to her plan. Then, there was the patient they had agreed to care for at her behest.

  Ami turned in her chair and stared out of the window at the cloud-covered sky. Soon. Soon it would be time. She swung back around and pressed a few keys on her impressive triple-screen computer setup. The three monitors came to life, but instead of displaying something the ordinary way, they projected a holographic image, which floated above Ami’s desk. It was a 3D rendering of the solar system.

  Ami observed it and reflected on its meaning. Yes, soon it would be time. After five long years, it was almost time to enact her plan.

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