“Dr Thx, dial 973 stat. Dr. Thx, 973 stat,” the overhead speaker blared.

At the nurses station, she picked up
the phone on the first ring. “Nurse Ept speaking.”

“This is Dr. Thx, I was paged.”

“Yes, doctor. Your patient, Mr. Katastrofee in room 637 is unresponsive. His vital signs, CBC
and CMP are all normal but…” Here
she paused to catch her breath and steel herself for his reaction… “His word count is over 400,000” she finally blurted.

“Damn it, nurse, when and how did he get access to publishing materials in this hospital?”

“I don’t know, doctor. He was fine this morning. He did have some visitors this afternoon but…”
she trailed off miserably.

“Alright, give him 1 mg of Antifan IV now and start an Illiterate drip at 8 mg per hour. I’ll be up to see him
soon.”

Back in the patients room, Mr. K’s blood-shot eyes still bulged, saliva trickled from the corner of his mouth as he mumbled unintelligibly and his fingers twitched as if typing on an invisible keyboard.