Free Predominance by H. I. Defaz Page A

he began, breaking the uncomfortable silence, “I see we're all here. I suppose the first order of business is for me to introduce myself, although I think I've met most of you already.”
    He smiled pleasantly. “But for the ones I haven't met: Hello, my name is Dr. Ethan Walker, and I'm the Neuro-Oncologist in charge of this research facility center—as well as the treatment protocol for each and every one of you. On behalf of everyone here at R.C. Labs, I'd like to welcome you, and to thank you for your understanding and cooperation with our security protocols. I know all of you must be equally excited and curious to learn what our new procedure is all about. But before we jump into that, why don't you just go around the table and introduce yourselves? I'd like you to have an idea of the amazing similarities that bond your extraordinary conditions. As I've said to some of you before: You're not alone as you think you are.”
    He paused for a second, meeting every eye in the room. “Please…” He invited the skinny blond man on my left to speak first. He was probably in his late twenties, but like most of us, his condition made his face look tired and bitter, and therefore a lot older. “Why don't you start by telling us your name and your particular condition?”
    It took the guy a second to realize that Dr. Walker was taking to him. “Oh!” he said, adjusting himself in his chair. “Um… my name is Tom, and, uh… I was left with an unexplained intracranial pressure after a hang-gliding accident. The doctors said they couldn't find the cause, and that I was going to die from it, really soon… ahem, so I've been waiting.” His voice weakened at the end.
    “How long ago were you diagnosed, Tom?” Dr. Walker asked gently.
    “Two years.”
    “Aftermath symptoms?” the doctor probed.
    “Headaches and seizures.”
    “Thank you, Tom.” Dr. Walker gave him a warm smile. “Would you like to be next?” he asked the guy sitting next to Tom. I looked over and noticed he was just a kid; he couldn't possibly be over eighteen. His long brown hair was tucked underneath a Red Sox baseball cap that he kept twiddling with, like a nervous tic. He looked so young that it was painful to see him there.
    “My name is William,” he said, shifting uneasily. “But you can call me Billie. I have the same pressure in my head that you were talking about.” He glanced at Tom. “My friend hit me in the head with a baseball bat during practice—it was an accident. But after that, I started having seizures and headaches. My mom took me to the hospital, but they told me the same thing, that I was going to…” he trailed off. “Well, you know… But it's been a year since it happened and I'm still waiting.”
    “Can we move this along?” the blonde woman sitting next to Billie burst out, annoyed. She was definitely over-medicated. Poor excuse to act like a bitch, I thought. But she was young, too, early twenties, maybe—yet she talked like she'd been around the block a few times, if you know what I mean. “I thought we were here to find a cure, not to hear our sad little stories. And we all have one, believe me!”
    “And you are, my dear?” Dr. Walker intervened.
    “My name is Barbara and yes, I suffered a major head injury, too! Two and a half years ago. Different side effects, though—headaches and sensitivity to light,” she said smugly.
    I startled when I heard she that suffered the exact same symptoms I did. So I wasn't the only one. I really wasn't alone.
    “Just that, huh?” the oldest of the group spoke. You didn't need to take a second look to realize that this man was different from the rest of us. He was in his early thirties, and yet his posture and demeanor suggested that he'd never had to endure a day's work in his entire life—other than sign a few papers behind a desk, maybe. The silk shirt and gold Rolex he wore left no doubts that he was a very wealthy man. “So the rudeness is just a natural