TECH DELAY

“James Petros!” a familiar raspy voice boomed from the doctor’s room, stopping him on his tracks. He cursed himself for taking the lift instead of the stairs closer to his office. There was only one person who called him by both names. Professor Samson Macintosh, an ex-military scholar with a towering height and leathery hands that he always held out to show his marks of battle. The story told by a whisper was that he was expelled from his division after organizing a protest against officers being trained by robots in his base. He called it, ‘The Magnet’ the only force that could return the people back to their real lives. He boldly told his superintendents that sending him away was craven, the movement could not be stopped even by him. When he joined the Canary University hospital almost two decades ago, he announced his entrance as the great-grandchild of Humphrey Chetham, one of the pioneers of state libraries and research across Europe. A walking encyclopaedia, he told his students that he studied medicine and philosophy solely through the books in these libraries when they asked for notes or power point slides. It was not hard to know where he was for the sake of a quick exit because it was not hard to spot him in a three-piece suit, five medals neatly pinned right above his left breast pocket.

James was surprised to see the Professor in front of a computer. It was a rare scene. “See, this is the problem with technology,” he lamented, pressing hard on the keyboard to fill the box on the screen before a hazard sign appeared, sending him into a spiral. He must have been there for a while because his coat was on the chair. James had never seen him without it. He looked even bigger, shoulders broadening out of his chest and his now visible pot belly heaving heavily with frustration.

“Back in my days, James,” Professor Samson said, standing up and ushering him to sit in front of the computer. He walked briskly and slid under the table before the scholar got upset, “things were simple,” he continued. I could see everything clearly on paper because I could trust my pen. The indelible ink from Sussex captured my thoughts like a honeycomb.”

James nodded, still unsure of what he was dealing with. He knew his name tag classified him as a support officer but he probably needed to look at his job description again before the professor made him his personal aid.

With cowardly courage, James asked, “What seems to be the problem…maybe I can help.”

“That is the problem, James… Technology! Haven’t you been listening?” Professor Samson widened his eyes, pointing at the computer with disgust.

“Yes, sir… Professor, I have,”

A moment’s pause. The tension tight, emotions high. James impatiently waited for the calm to settle in before the scholar decided to explain himself. “I urgently need to have some tests done for my patients. This is a matter of life and death. Do you understand?”

James nodded.

“The young doctors are not here today; someone convinced them to go matching in the streets for some extra coins,” he scoffed.

James remained silent, his eyes focused on the keyboard.

“Anyway that is not a problem. I have built a boat with my hands, lived in the forest survived on wild berries and water. So I came to do my due diligence, left with these nurses. I thought I should be able to tell them what I want, and they do it. A patient’s life is in danger if they can’t, but all they are worried about is documents. They even told me that my tests cannot be done unless I order them on this thing. Can you believe that!” Professor Samson was panting.

“No, I can’t,” James thought, seeing no point in disagreeing.

“Anyway, I am a reasonable man, James, and I humbled myself and sought this device. The system keeps asking me for a password. I have put in my full name, Samson Normint Macintosh and Bam!” he slammed the table, “Blocked, just like that, as if I do not know my own name. Such disrespect,”

James had to get away, his only hope was to fix this. He scanned the computer with the mouse in haste.

“Tell me, why we should not ban these machines in hospitals, James? They have invaded it, now they are taking people’s identity, and nobody cares anymore in this country. Sooner or later, we will feed it to the dogs,” Professor Samson was pacing the room, long strides, hands fisted.

“Professor, you…” James pointed at the keyboard.

“James, I have to write a formal complaint to the Federal Minister of Health. My petitions always go through; you have seen the recent one on television, haven’t you, James?”

“Yes, but professor,” James tried to speak.

“James, we need to take back our country. What we need is a revolution,” the professor declared, subconsciously raising his right clenched hand, staring into the air, nodding his head frantically. “We need to gather the ones who are ready to take…”

“Professor Samson Macintosh!” James yelled out, something they had both never experienced in their lives.  

“James Petros, why are you interrupting my thoughts?”

“The CAPS lock was on!” James exclaimed.

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