Dr. Cornelius Morgan had worked at the main hospital in Revel for over fifteen years. As a surgeon, he had endured many difficult nights, repairing spines and mending broken bones. He took complete responsibility for his patients' lives. Cornelius had spent several days without sleep following the night of the collapse, when numerous accidents occurred in the seventh district due to a power outage. But that night would remain etched in his memory forever — the night he met Martha Crockford for the last time. Unfortunately, their paths never crossed again.
Several patients arrived at the hospital that night. They were ordinary fractures and burns. He had repaired bones many times before. But now the hour had come— the coveted break when Cornelius could sip a cup of coffee, step outside, and smoke a cigarette. It was raining that night, and the doctor watched the raindrops splatter on the asphalt. He was waiting for an old acquaintance who was expected to arrive at any moment.
Every time Cornelius met his friend, he would find himself unable to sleep for several days. It was his curiosity that did it. He asked questions and received answers, but with each passing time, he realized that this choice was one of the mistakes after which he could never close his eyes. The answers were too terrifying for him, a man whose hands were stained with the blood of patients almost twenty-four hours a day.
Near the main gates was a landing platform for the hospital, where the Ether had landed. The door opened, and Martha Crockford stepped out, opening a small umbrella. She walked along the alley lined with roses, redder than the blood flowing in the hospital. Martha reached the entrance and stood next to Cornelius. The fifty-year-old man looked at her. She was dressed in her usual blouse and pants, and over them, she wore a coat that almost reached the ground. The woman appeared sleepy and closed her umbrella, as if trying to shake off the shackles of sleep. Of course, Cornelius had awakened her in the middle of the night and asked her to come to the hospital. Not long ago, she had asked him to report any unusual patients.
Martha took out a small silver cigarette case, opened it, and pulled out a cigarette. Wordlessly, Cornelius retrieved a lighter from his medical coat and lit her cigarette. Martha inhaled, letting the nicotine fill her body.
"What happened, Cornelius?" Her voice sounded serious. Cornelius rarely found himself near the professor when her tone was so low.
"It seems I found a candidate for you," the doctor said, and Martha turned to him.
"A candidate?"
"For your project. You're announcing recruitment for the training of cadets who will subsequently be sent to other worlds. You also asked to be informed about such cases. "
"Cornelius, the recruitment was announced only a month ago. First, there will be a selection, and then training will begin. Though I have my favorites. Their stories are interesting. What is wrong with this one?"
"I'm not familiar with your plan, but perhaps this person will interest you," Cornelius said, finishing his cigarette and tossing the butt into the bin.
"The machine is almost complete. If the launch happens, it will be in three or four years. Although recruitment will close in less than six months. I already have almost twenty candidates, and it's only been a month," Martha extinguished her cigarette as well. "What's so interesting about this candidate that you asked him to come at night?"
"I'll show you something."
Cornelius Morgan and Martha Crockford entered the hospital building, ascended to the seventh floor, and passed through several sterile corridors. Neither the doctor nor the professor spoke a word. Finally, Cornelius brought Martha to one of the wards. Through the window, the woman saw a young boy completely covered in nano-fabric. It sustained his life, holding his bones together for them to heal again. His face was not visible. The boy was connected to a ventilation system.
"He's in a coma," Cornelius stated.
"And this is the candidate? A comatose patient?" Martha asked indignantly, pointing her palm at the body behind the glass. "Why did you call me here so early then?"
In a small recess in the wall lay a tablet with the medical history, behind it was a folder duplicating the tablet. Cornelius took it out.
"Paper?" Martha asked.
"I shouldn't be passing patient data to anyone, but here's his whole history. After reading it, burn it."
Martha opened the folder. At the top right, the patient's name was written.
"Jonathan Brooks," Martha read slowly. "Sounds somewhat familiar." She began flipping through the pages one by one.
"Look here," Cornelius took one of the pages marked with a red marker and placed it on top.
"Deep blood analysis?" the Professor read thoughtfully.
"Years after a person's DNA was fully deciphered, they created this analysis to study the origins of human traits. You won't understand the results, but..." the doctor pointed to one of the indicators, "this result... This is the recovery coefficient."
"Recovery coefficient?" Martha echoed. She knew little about medicine. All medical projects in the Fracture Complex would be conducted by doctors. Martha only cared about whether the Wanderers were healthy or not.
"Yes, it refers to the body's ability to heal itself. And these indicators show that this patient has a slightly higher recovery ability than the rest."
"Cornelius," the woman looked at him, lowering her hand along with the folder, "I don't understand you."
"Look. For example, if you break your leg, the recovery process with standard treatment will take two to three months and more through natural means. Of course, if you use technology, you could manage it in a month, but..." Cornelius glanced at the patient's name on the plaque at the entrance, "Jonathan Brooks will take two months to recover with natural treatment, considering regeneration."
"Well, that's clear, and then?" Martha adjusted her glasses, which kept sliding down her nose.
"And now the most important part," with a wave of his hand, Cornelius asked Martha to open the folder and turned several more pages. "Look here," he pointed. "Does the date and place mean anything to you?"
Martha stared at the sheet of paper, her pupils dilating. It was impossible; she couldn't even imagine. She slowly shifted her gaze to Cornelius. The doctor understood that Martha remembered where she had heard the name Jonathan Brooks, and he smiled slightly.
"The night of the collapse!" Martha said quietly and with great astonishment. "But how?" Professor Crockford raised her head sharply.
"Look where he was at the moment of the collapse," Martha glanced at the patient's admission location.
"At the border? Ah," Martha squeezed the folder in her hand. "That boy who was on the train..." Cornelius nodded. "The train was at the border between the districts, and it was torn apart."
"Then all the passengers died, but one boy survived. No one could understand how. That was when deep analysis was just starting to be used. They didn't perform it on him."
"Broken arms, ribs..." Martha continued reading. "Legs, spine... Internal bleeding,"
"After such injuries, few could survive. I'm not talking about a full recovery. Back then, all technologies that could be used were employed. Everyone was happy that, thanks to progress, we could treat people even in such conditions, but..."
"But it wasn't about the technologies," Martha finished the sentence.
"And lastly, look at when he was delivered to the hospital," Cornelius pointed a finger for the last time. "How much time passed from the collapse to his registration in the hospital?"
"Five hours," the woman said quietly. "Wait," she barely touched Dr. Morgan's chest, "he lay in the wreckage of the train with broken bones for few hours?"
"And he survived..." Cornelius concluded.
"But... but how?" Martha asked in confusion, hoping Dr. Morgan, who knew much more about medicine, would provide her an answer.
"Partially thanks to our level of technology, but for five hours, he was bleeding out while his body tried to heal itself. It couldn't heal, of course, but it could sustain life. However, when rescuers found him, his heart stopped a few minutes later. They restarted it and put him into a coma."
"And after all that..."
"He can walk and run, live a normal life."
"That's impossible," Martha approached the glass almost closely.
"Most likely, a DNA mutation. Our bodies strive for recovery. In his case, it's happening more effectively. I conducted several tests. The places where his bones were broken left barely noticeable scars. But all the bones are intact. But again, I'll repeat, without technology, there wouldn't be such results."
"And if someone else were in his place?" the woman asked.
"He wouldn't have survived until the rescuers arrived. And if he did, he would never fully recover."
Martha couldn't believe it, even though Cornelius explained everything to her. This young man multiplied the chances of the project's success many times over. His tragedy wasn't as interesting to the Professor. But his exceptional recovery ability significantly increased the chances of success.
"And what about him now?" Martha turned and looked at Cornelius. "What happened?"
"Graduation," the doctor replied. "A few days ago, there was a graduation ceremony at the schools. In one of the schools in Arkan, where he studied, his classmates bullied him. They humiliated, beat him, and so on."
"That's disgusting," Martha declared.
"Indeed," Cornelius agreed. "The reason is simple. In the old world, people like him were partially accepted, but only in certain countries. In the Consolidated Nation, they don't even look at it. And the fact that these kids bullied him is a consequence of their parents' upbringing. As far as I know, they eagerly shared the worldview of the Last Ones, including the ideology before the attempted uprising. They are adherents of the values of the old world."
"The Last Ones," Martha repeated quietly. "I wouldn't be so merciful to them. I wouldn't send them to a prison district."
"They've already been arrested, and their parents will be sent to the Tenth District."
"That's where they belong. At least something. But what really happened?"
"The news reported that there was a graduation," Dr. Morgan continued. "After the diplomas were handed out, a group of former classmates grabbed him in one of the school corridors and beat him."
"They beat him to that state?!"
"No, Martha. They dragged him to the roof of the building and pushed him down."
"Oh, disgusting, how did their parents get permission to activate?"
"Most likely, medical data swung the pendulum in favor of vaccination," Cornelius continued to stand and look at the body in the ward.
"They'll rot in the Tenth District!" the woman declared firmly.
"That's right," the doctor agreed, "but still, after such injuries, as you see, he's still alive. The prognosis, of course, is positive. I think in about four months, he will leave the hospital. But..."
"But what?"
"I think his mind is broken," Cornelius said sadly.
"Ah," Martha sighed. "Hmm," the woman pondered. "You know that the mind, like the body, can be restored. It will take time, but everything can be fixed."
"Too much time."
"We have enough of it," Martha glanced at John; the artificial breathing apparatus was pumping oxygen into his lungs "Thank you, Cornelius, he is suitable for the project."
"Why?" Cornelius asked. Since he learned about the recruitment for the 'Wanderers', he had always been interested in this question. "What are the selection criteria? And why will the recovery coefficient increase the chances?"
"Cornelius Morgan, are you sure you want to know the answer?" Martha turned and approached him closely. The doctor thought long, hesitated, and still made his mistake again.
"Yes."
"Deviation," Martha replied.
"Deviation?" the doctor repeated.
"You see, the Fracture machine, like the Apparatus, work the same way. The Fracture Machine shatters a person into tiny pieces and sends them through the fracture to another world. There, he is put back together. But there is a margin of error, a flaw, a deviation," Martha paused for a moment and then continued. "His ability to recover will allow him to survive more fractures. After a deviation of four percent is reached, the human body won't withstand the strain and will die. Cornelius looked into Martha's eyes and couldn't believe that she was capable of sending a person to such a cruel death."
"He will die."
"Whether he dies depends only on him. After each rift, the deviation increases by tenths, and sometimes hundredths of a percent. His body will be able to survive dozens of rifts."
"But that's still death. You don't know what exactly he will see in other worlds."
"And this brings us to the selection criteria. I have three potential Wanderers. I call them favorites. Broken things that can be repaired and used. One of them... Her parents were middle class, but they got permission for vaccination. I don't know how they got it, but... Her mother beat her, insulted her, made her feel stupid and compared her intellect to that of a dog. Her father died during the collapse due to a failure of part of the systems in the Second District."
"Let's go out for a smoke," Cornelius could no longer hold back.
"Let's go," they both left Jonathan in the ward under the care of the machine that was giving him a chance to survive. "And it's been like this since childhood. To her mother, she was foolish, and it formed a complex in her. She started to study, but her mother wanted more. She had a talent for the exact sciences. She began to develop it to prove to her mother that she wasn't foolish. Of course, there were mistakes that her mother immediately noticed, but she continued and didn't stop.
"That's terrible," they left the hospital building, stood under the awning, took out cigarettes, and lit up.
Raindrops shattered on the asphalt into smaller pieces. Some of them landed on the Professor's shoes.
"And that's how she became one of the candidates. She's smart enough to compete with the best scientists, even though she's only twenty-five. She takes on tasks and tries to complete them no matter what. It gives her a sense that she's not foolish. But over time, her complex returns, and she sets herself an impossible goal again...
"And the second?" Cornelius asked.
"The second... His family died under the rubble of a building on the night of the collapse. The train left the magnetic field and crashed into a shopping center. The family was crushed under the concrete slabs. It was one of the old buildings. And after that, he told himself every day that he was strong. And he became strong.
"And the third?"
"She uses our project for her own purposes. Her father suffered a traumatic brain injury, and part of the brain tissue with neurons was lost. The treatment is experimental but shows positive forecasts," Martha took a drag, "and our project provides medical privileges, thanks to which her father is receiving treatment.
"And John Brooks, is he the fourth?" Cornelius felt uneasy.
"Perhaps. If no one better appears.
"Why them, Martha?"
"I have many cadets with their own reasons and peculiarities. But their stories are different. Many join the project because they want to become famous, or they are bored, or they want something new. Their motivation is weak. But they... They are broken. One proves to herself that she can reach the center because she is smart enough, another goes for her father, the third is running from herself and the past. We just need to find out what's wrong with that guy in the ward.
"And the criteria?"
"Simple, Cornelius. They face death. All Wanderers face death in other worlds.
"And you send them to their death?
"Don't judge me," Martha looked at the man, "I told you. It will depend on them. And yet, death awaits them. That's why a Wanderer must be smart enough to cheat death, must be strong enough to fight it, must be fast. If suddenly cheating death or defeating it is impossible, then at least run from it. And now I realize that there's a fourth criterion.
"What is it?" Cornelius didn't want to hear the answer.
"Your curiosity will be your downfall, Cornelius."
"But you're doing this out of curiosity too."
"Not just out of it, but I am prepared for the consequences." Martha extinguished her cigarette, as did the doctor next to her, "if it's impossible to cheat death, or to fight it, and even more so to run from it, then a Wanderer must be able to withstand the blow of death itself."
Cornelius could no longer stand on his feet. This truth was too cruel for him. No horror of the hospital could compare to the Project "Fracture." Martha continued to look into the doctor's eyes.
"It's science," she said, "and science requires sacrifices. As one of the great writers of the old world wrote, many surgical advancements owe themselves to the executioner. So what's the difference between surgery and science in this case?
"So, are Wanderers sacrifices for the sake of science?" Cornelius asked.
"I do everything so that they don't become that. But in case of failure, there will be another Wanderers," Martha placed her hand on the Pulse, and a signal sounded. "You understand that all of this is just between us?"
"Yes, Martha, I understand."
"We all have our secrets. How good it is that I have friends who deleted your son's data from all systems. No one should know that on the night of the collapse, you personally operated on him, pushing the other patients down the list... They are dead, Cornelius. Thanks to you..."
"I hate myself for that."
"See? How good it is that we both understand the value of secrets. Compromise brings us closer."
The Ether landed near the entrance to the hospital grounds. Martha opened her umbrella.
"Have a good shift, Cornelius," said Professor Crockford, leaving the old doctor standing alone on the hospital porch.
"And still, Martha..." Morgan called out.
"Everyone has their reasons," Professor Crockford said as she turned around. She had a reason to continue her research in Primordial Space. Silly, trivial, but it became her backbone. Martha Crockford's husband should not have died in vain.
Doctor Morgan watched as the woman got into the Ether and it ascended. Cornelius took out another cigarette. Somewhere in the distance, the first rays of the sun appeared. Dawn was breaking. His break was coming to an end. And the doctor knew for sure that in the coming days, he wouldn't be able to sleep, realizing what awaited the Wanderers ahead. He raised his gaze to the ward where Jonathan Brooks lay, took one last drag, extinguished the cigarette, and returned to the hospital. His break was over.