The eruption saved Robert's life, and he was grateful. Everything he did now, he did because of a lump in his head. He was a better doctor, and he could now reach patients across the globe instantly. His life was back on track, and he was more skilled than he was before. Since waking up from being brain dead, he had been able to probe minds, see events of the past and future, and travel unimaginable distances. But, it also came at a price.

It happened so slowly at first, and he was able to dismiss it a Freudian slip, or a trick of the mind. It was little things. A couple laughing as they came out of a movie gave him a pang of sadness. A man who eyed him suspicioulsy from a street corner made him happy. The street gang, who terrorized a neighborhood, made him fee safe. He even found himself vehemently disagreeing with someone over something he knew they both agreed on. They were little things, but over time, he began to notice that they happened with more frequency. He was sure his heightened perceptual abilities were to blame.

His pager went off, bringing him back from his thoughts. It was 10 year old Jeremiah Ingambe. The imaging results were back regarding his right hip pain. Robert suspected that the sicle cells in Jeremiah's blood had clogged the circulatory system to that portion of the hip. He headed to radiology to look at the imaging results. He hoped he was wrong.

The halls were bustling with nurses, CNA's, and other hospital staff. The occasional doctor walked by, and they each gave quick nods to one another in passing. The sharp scent of anitseptic covered everything in a hospital, and Robert found it comforting, like warm milk. Another perceptual glitch to a busy day.

As he walked past the Imaging and Radiology waiting room, he saw little Jeremiah sitting in his wheelchair. Robert always made sure that his patients, and their parents, felt comfortable around him. All it took from Robert was a tiny spark of quantum. He waved to them as he headed into radiology.

The tech was harried and busy, but with a quick smile and a promise of coffee later, at the doc's expense, and the tech expedited retreival of the MRI results. Once in hand, Robert started looking at the large fims. At first, all he could discern was a little shadowing in the right Illiac crest. The darkening went halfway down into the illium itself. With a sickle cell patient, it was also necessary for to get contrast, so that bloodflow to bones could be seen. When he put the contrast films on the light wall, his fears were confirmed. The shadowing on the illinum was was cause by prolonged deprivation of oxygenatied blood. This lack of blood flow had caused the bone to become necrotic. Sadly, these sorts of things were common in children and adults with sickle cell. To prevent the dead bone material from turning gangrenous, he would need to do surgery. First, he had to tell Jermiah's mom and get approval. These sort of things were never easy.

Taking a deep breath, Robert approached Jerimiah and his mom. He held out his hand for the twenty-something African woman, as he greeted her. "Good afternoon Mrs. Ingambe, I am Dr. White. Your is son tells me you just started teaching at one of the local elementary schools."

"Yes, he is very proud of me." She said in perfect, accented English. "He reminds me of it every day." Her smile was bright and shone with a thirst for life. Robert tried his best to choke back his fear. He knew it wasn't natural to fear joy, and he quickly suppressed the aberrated perception. He was able to focus his attention at her again. She seemed to not have noticed his 'episode'.

Robert looked over at one of the younger nurses and signaled her to come over to them. "I want you to take Jermiah to the game room. Give him whatever he wants." Dr. White crouched until he was Jermiah's eye level. "I need to speak with your mom for a few minutes, OK? Nurse Becky will take you to out game room. You like to play games, don't you?" Slowly a giant grin began to form on his face, as he hear the words, 'games' and 'play'. He nodded earnestly as Becky began wheeling him towards the game room.

Mrs. Ingambe followed Dr. White to one of the consultation rooms where he discussed diagnoses and treatments with the parents. Rarely did parents let their kids come with them. When they did, Robert pointed out that the parent's reactions could greatly affect the child emotional state. Most parents listend to him. Once the door was closed, Robert motioned towards a couple of chairs that faced a projector screen. "Have seat Maam?"

Placing the relevant MRi films in the projector, the doctor began: "Mrs. Ingambe. As you know, Jeremiah was diagnosed with Sickle Cell Anemia about eight years ago. The genetic disease is characterized by a sickle shaped red blood cell that causes a host of different problems. As it relates to his hip pain, the sickle cells have clogged the capillaries that feed the bone marrow." The doctor traced the outline of the dead bone in the hip, as his mom looked on in shock. "The bone in his hip is necrotic. It's dead. If we don't remove his hip, he will die of infection."

"What about antibiotics?" His mom asked. Dr. White got the impression that she was happy about it, but it might be his senses gone awry. "Won't antibiotics stop the infection?"

"Yes, Mrs. Ingambe, they will, but it won't stop the necrotizing of the Illium. Unless the dead bone material is removed, the entire right side of his hip will be affected. If infection sets in then, not even IV antibiotics will save his life."

Mrs. Ingambe sat in stunned silence as the Doctor's words reverberated through her head. As she stared at the MRI of her only son's hip, the doctor put his hand on her shoulder. "He needs the surgery as soon as possible."

Her large dark eyes rose to meet his, and a tear rolled down her cheek. The sadness in her face was profound, and the doctor felt it with her. His mind reached out to hers, gently but out of his control, and magnified the sadness. It was too much for his brain to handle, and in response, his synapses overloaded. This sent a massive neural shockwave forking into his Occipital lobe. Like an EMP from a lightening bolt, it shorted-out the neural connections. Dr. White was blind.

"Are you alright Doctor White? Doctor?" A woman's sweet sorrow-tinged voice, made his head snap in that diretion. There was a pause before he heard her voice again. "What happened to the glow in your eyes?..it's gone!" He felt the light touch of nible, yet strong fingers on the back of his hand. Waves of gooseflesh shot up his arm as his senses keened on any stimuli. In his world of darkenss, it was just the two of them.

His hand jerked away as his other arms launched to the side, reaching for anythng to hold onto. He was afraid to reach into her mind and use her eyes to see for him. There was still that singular emotion lurking in there. He did not want to meet it. It was too soon. As his hand made contact with a counter-top, he let out a big breath of air. "I am alright Mrs. Ingambe, it just a dizzy spell." He could hear he sniffling at the tears that ran into her sinuses. He needed to maintain composure.

"Could you give me a minute please." He finally said breathlessly. "I need to catch my balance." He didn't want her to know that he was blind.

"Would you like me to send in a nurse." She said as she opened the door.

"No Thank you. I'll be fine." his voice was still shakey. He didn't know if he was going to be fine. He was terrified. "I'll come get you in a few minutes. Please think about what I have said."

She didn't say anything as she left. The soft clicking of the door was the only sound he could hear. He slumped down the side of the counters and onto the floor, his head into his hands. Every few minutes, he lifted his head up and looked around, testing to see if he could see. The waiting was agony.

Small pink specks, like insects, heralded the return of neural activity to his visual cortex; they bussed in chaotic Cthulian pattern against the blackness in hsi mind. The specks grew until they became fields of long grasses that waved under great gusts of wind. Soon, images began to reappear. First A projector, then a chair, then his hands. He stared in silence, noting that everthing was its negative. His hands were black, the projector was white. The MRI's films colors were opposite, yet they still showed the debilitating diseases effects on the 10 year olds hip.

It took a full 5 minutes for his vision to return to normal. He would give her another 20 minutes to decide. For the doctor, it was a visit to the phone to get in touch with an aquaintance who specialized in such matters. He was showing the efffects of Quantum sickness, or taint. Dr. White hoped he didn't have to hunt for the man.

In the game room, Jermiah had already made a couple of friends and was laughing gleefully with the other children. Mrs. Ingambe was sitting there, in silence, a small smile on her lips. She seemed to have come to a decision.

She rose and walked towards the doctoras he came into the game room. Jeremiah gave her a quick glance of recognition before returning to focus on his two new playmates. Dr. White watched Jeremy laugh and smile, and wondered if Jeremiah knew what was happening.

"Sorry about that Mrs. Ingambe," he said, once aain reaching out to shake her hands. "I guess that's what happens when you skip breaksfast." If only she knew, he thought. Recently, he began contemplating what people's reaction would be if they knew what kind of issues the doctor had to deal with every day. They would call him 'the mad doctor', or 'aberration'. They would whisper about him behind their closed offices. Nurses would nodd secretly to one another, afraid that he might snap. His long time colleagues would make excuses to avoid collaboration. He had to put those ideas out of his head.

The office they were is was much larger and it had a confortable desk where people could discuss serious matters. The leather chairs were comfortable, hinting that this might be a private office. A name plackard on the front of the desk had some administrator's name in blocky letters on it. The office, however, looked to be used by many people for the purpose that Dr. White was using it for.

The doc sat down and looked the beautiful African woman in the eyes. "I know you haven't had a long time to think about the surgery, but it would be best if we did it as soon as..."

"He's not getting it." Mrs. Ingambe interrupted. Her expression cold and distant.

These sorts of things were not unexpected. Sometimes the family would decide that they couldn't fight any longer. While a child was sick and dying, the family suffered too. The emotional stressors usually led to familial problems, even after a sick child has passed. Dr. White noted that it was too soon for Mrs. Ingambe, to entertain such things. With the exception of a few religous sects, people usually gae consent to some treatment.

"Mrs. Ingambe, your son has an excellent chance of recovery. I think you should reconsider." Robert wanted to get on his hands an knees a plead for her to change her mind.

A simple response by Mrs. Ingambe made him understand "Can you cure him, Doc?" She knew what his reply was going to be. She was an educated woman.

"No," was his defeated reply. Both of them knew that the sickle cell anemia would eventually kill Jeremiah. The surgery would only prolong the outcome.

"Then you understand why I am not asking you to not do the surgery." Her voice sounded tragically resigned. Strangely enough, Robert was overjoyed.

"You are aware that he only has a few months to live?" The doc wanted her to have all the facts anyways. He felt it his duty to tell her of the outcome. "I can give you some antibiotics that will slow the infection. I will also give you some blood thinners. These will help keep the bones profused with blood, and prevent deep vein thrombosis." He had discussed these things with Mrs. Ingambe in the past, so she was aware of the terminolgy. "Eventually, though, he will throw a clot."

She nodded in acknowlegement. It was the truth that he gave her, and she was prepared for it. Robert wondered how someone could be so strong.

Mrs. Ingambe looked past him, at something imaginary in the distance. She seemed to be reminiscing. "Jeremiah always had the biggest smile," she finally said. "He made people happy just when he smiled."

"When I was in the game room, and saw him smiling and laughing, I understood." Dr. White knew what was coming, and he tried to think of anything else. If he could have fled the room he would have. "I realized that I wanted to remember him happy and smiling. He deserves to spend what little time he has left, being a kid. His last moment should be spent laughing with his friends and family, not in a hospital." Her eyes gleaned with a soul-tearing sorrow, tempered with joyous resignation. It was a look he had seen a thousand times before.

"I understand." was all he could say to her. "Lets go and see Jeremiah. He's probably worried what I did with his mom."

They walked back to the game room, engaging in meaningless small talk. What was important had already been said. For the rest of their lives, they would be bonded together. Jeremiah would see to that.