NaStySuMo – Part 7 – The Road of Fame.

We are in the last week of August, which will signal the end of NaStySuMo. As you all might’ve gathered, I’m just getting started with this, (laughs at self) so needless to say, it won’t be finished in 7 days. I’m going to see how far this will go and then just continue to write on it afterwards. J If it stretches into November, I’ll use NaNoWriMo to complete it. (Mental note to self… Plan NaNoWriMo… only 69 more days to go…)

On a holiday note – I went on a factory tour today (going to a friend’s workplace with her) and saw how they made/manufactured/bottled cosmetic products. I even saw how they made lipstick. Even though I’m completely against the whole cosmetic industry, I can’t deny that it was very cool. Don’t have any pictures, lol, maybe some tomorrow!

Part 7 – The Road of Fame

As with all children, Fame was tested for the Evolutionate DNA Marker the very day of her birth though it was sort of expected that she would be one. Both her parents were strong Type 3 Red Evolutionates, who did freelance work for the EPR. They were very proud of their daughter and more than a few people kept an eye on her when she grew up, searching for any signs of her powers. By the time that she was nine, she had not yet manifested anything, making her parents retest her for the marker. She had it, but it became clear that, if she had any powers, it was either still deeply buried or very weak. Although there were a few people who were disappointed, her parents weren’t among them, content to be allowed to raise their daughter with no interference from the government.

Even as a child, Fame had very poor social skills, preferring to keep to herself more than to interact with other children. When her parents bought her a Game Boy for her 10th birthday, she retreated to the world of electronic gaming and, for the first time, showed a spark of power. One day, when her parents entered her room, they found her playing with building blocks similar to those used in Tetris. Their structure was weak, and when they turned off her Game Boy, they disappeared. When they took her to be retested, it was determined that Fame could somehow ‘summon’ elements from computer games.

The ‘system’ tried very hard to incorporate Fame, to develop her powers to something that might be useful, but it became clear that her ability was limited. Game characters disintegrated at touch and Fame didn’t seem to be able to control what she could pull from the games. To her parents’ silent dismay (who had tried very hard to raise her as her own person without limitations), she was tagged among the weakest of the Evolutionates, her ability not even being deemed good enough to be used in self defence.

The law required that Fame had to be retested at sixteen, to see whether her abilities had increased or evolved somehow, but that was a difficult year for the young gamer and when she had to go for her test, she could barely pull anything from the screen. The EPR, who was responsible for the control and monitoring of Evolutionates, did what they could to integrate her into normal society and all but forgot about her.

Until now.


Fame was transferred to the general ward two days later when the doctor was satisfied with her progress. To her dismay, she was told that she would still have to remain in hospital for at least a couple more days to allow her shoulder more time to heal. Meanwhile, a psychiatrist came to see her, warning her about the signs and effects of post traumatic shock but Fame ignored her as much as she ignored the physiotherapist who came to speak to her about her shoulder’s rehabilitation. The police also came and questioned her about the robbery, but she gave them the same information that she had given the EPR, further stating that she wouldn’t feel confident in herself to be able to identify the bank robbers successfully based on their voices.

She didn’t want to be a witness.

Fame just wanted to go home and when she was capable of walking down the corridor without falling over or passing out, she all but demanded it. When her demands weren’t met, she asked for an AMA dismissal, a request that wasn’t met with enthusiasm.

“Needless to say,” Fame was saying as she glared at the nurse from her bed, clutching her PSP in a death grip. “AMA means Against Medical Advice. Of course me doctor didn’t clear it! Ah want to leave despite wha’ she says! It’s me bloody right. I’m not under arrest!”

The nurse shook her head dutifully and put on an expression that was supposedly meant to calm Fame down. “Of course,” she said soothingly as she glanced at the rest of the patients and abruptly closed the curtain around them. “That goes without saying. I am telling you though that you cannot leave now. You are not well enough to be away from medical care. Any number of complications can still occur. My suggestion would be for you to relax a little bit and wait for Dr. Walker to arrive so that she can explain to you…”

Fame growled and slipped off of the bed, pulling at her IV line but not quite ready to tear it out. “And she’ll tell me exactly the same thing as you just did,” she said. “That I am not fit to be released. Well, I tell you I feel just fine and I want to go home! I know my rights, I demand an AMA dismissal.”

The nurse’s mouth thinned as she looked at Fame, her eyes travelling to the security caller button beside her bed. Fame followed her gaze and fumed. “And, don’t think of calling security! This is not a prison. You cannot keep me here against my will!”

The curtain around them parted unexpectedly as Fame’s doctor stepped in, her air of authority immediately making Fame get back into her bed, even as she glared at the woman. She had come to really dislike Dr. Marlene Walker, feeling as if the woman herself was solely responsible for her incarceration. What vexed her even more was the she was always calm, almost friendly. Even now, as Fame was shouting down her nurse, she surveyed the scene calmly and slipped her hands into her white coat pocket.

“We’re not keeping you here against your will Amy,” she said calmly. “We’re keeping you here for your own good.” She glanced at her nurse. “I’ll handle it from here, thank you.”

The nurse smiled at her, clearly relieved, and left the cubicle, leaving Fame alone with the woman. Fame watched her leave and then turned to the doctor, biting her lip as she considered what to do further.

Dr. Walker calmly leaned against her bed and smiled. “Now, tell me Amy,” she said softly. “What’s the problem here?”

At her real name, Fame flinched and pressed herself against her cabinet, swallowing sudden tears. “Ah want t’ go home,” she said without looking at the woman. “Ah really want t’ go home. Ah need t’ see if m’dog’s there – ah need to sort out some things and see people. Ah can’t stay here any longer. Please, just… I’ll sign the AMA. But, ah want to go.” She slipped her PSP into the sling around her arm so that she could steady herself against the bed with her good arm, her tirade leaving her feeling miserable and tired, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to win a war of words with the doctor.

Dr. Walker considered her for a few seconds and sighed, motioning to Fame to sit on the bed. “Amy, you are not well enough yet,” she said simply. “I have explained to you that we need to keep monitoring you, for your own sake. Amongst all the usual trauma associated with a gunshot wound, you are also still at risk for an infection. Can’t you wait just a couple more days?”

Fame closed her eyes but shook her head determined. “No,” she said simply. “Nobody can find Dogmeat but me. If he is still here, I’m the only one who can find him.”

Dr. Walker sighed and looked at the dark curtain before she continued. “Isn’t there anybody else who can do this for you? A close family member or friend?”

Fame’s urge to cry became stronger as she shook her head. “It’s just me,” she said simply. “Please Dr. Walker even… even if it’s just temporary leave. Like an outpatient. Or something. Please, ah need to go home.”

The doctor frowned at her, debating her strong words before she sighed and picked up her chart, scanning its contents. Her features softened as she turned a page and closed the file, resting it on her lap and pinching the bridge of her nose as she did so.

“Alright Amy,” she said abruptly. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

To Be Continued…