"Are you lying?"
Dr. Komaeda: I wouldn't lie about that. Patient confidentiality doesn't include concealing if I've used the same treatment on former patients, either, so I'm not sure what you're doubtful about.
"It's bad enough that you're using his old doctor's research... but telling him to keep secrets from me, then lying to my face, too. That just proves you're sleazy."
Dr. Komaeda: Ah? Ah ah ah? And just what is it you're going on about?
"Mod 33 lied to me about your whereabouts, then said he wasn't supposed to tell me he was getting surgery, or about your old patient who survived the same one."
Dr. Komaeda: Your friend is going through... a lot. I know this. Ic lufie þē. I think he's gotten confused, and I think you're looking too much into his words.
"Just tell me the truth!"
Dr. Komaeda: You want.
Dr. Komaeda: You want...
Dr. Komaeda: The truth?
"Stop tugging everyone along and tell me what you're really doing!"
Dr. Komaeda: Tugging everyone along... Hm?
Dr. Komaeda: A whole flock following...?
Dr. Komaeda: Byrdes of on kynde and color flok and flye allwayes together.
"Are you speaking in tongues...?"
Dr. Komaeda: ...
Dr. Komaeda: This is no modern feat...
Dr. Komaeda: What your friend experiences...
Dr. Komaeda: It is something even Komaedalings thousands of years ago struggled to approach.
Dr. Komaeda: But I can change that misconception.
Dr. Komaeda: I can only seek the truth.
Dr. Komaeda: What you see around us and what air you breathe is all part of his ultimate design.
Dr. Komaeda: As part of his ultimate mission.
Dr. Komaeda: Wilt þū mid mē sealtian?
Dr. Komaeda: The truth of it all...
Dr. Komaeda: Ah, the gorgeous, glistening truth... hahahah...
Dr: Komaeda: The truth of all of this...
Dr. Komaeda: The truth. Is that.
Dr. Komaeda: We are.
Dr. Komaeda: All.
Dr. Komaeda: Enormous.
Dr. Komaeda: Golden.
Dr. Komaeda: Turkeys.
"I guess Mod 33 had the wrong idea."
Dr. Komaeda: His memory probably isn't the best, hm?
Dr. Komaeda: But after this treatment, I'm sure he'll see many improvements.
Hopefully, Doctor Komaeda will forget you mentioning something so specific.
You have a feeling he's not being entirely honest, but you don't want to put Mod 33 in a tight spot.
Maybe there's legality issues about mentioning former patients, or even just this surgery.
"Well, you're the doctor..."
Dr. Komaeda: Aha, I suppose that's correct. I wouldn't want either of you trying to convince yourselves that I haven't put a lot of thought into this treatment plan.
Dr. Komaeda: It's always difficult navigating the health and wellbeing of a patient with so many internal issues, what with his unique wiring and stuffing. Sometimes it feels as though I'm trying to build a new species!
Dr. Komaeda: But I believe it would be best if you have faith in these methods.
Dr. Komaeda: It is in my best interest, too, that your friend lives to see another day.
"As long as I can be sure you're not trying to test some new quack surgery on him, or using him for spare parts..."
Dr. Komaeda: Ah? If that is one of your fears, I assure you now, no part of his current form would be worth even a penny on the organ market.
Dr. Komaeda: Perhaps, after this surgery, the new form he inhabits will possess much more valuable parts.
Dr. Komaeda: Won't that be lovely? Ohohoho! Just in case he needs a fallback.
He straightens up suddenly and looks at you with a stern face.
Dr. Komaeda: I'm joking, of course. I can only do so because I have such a great optimism in this surgery... I know that his life will be changed for the better when it's over with.
Dr. Komaeda: Well, anyway. I don't mean to push you, but I do have other things I need to attend to in the meantime. I hope I've answered any possible queries of yours.
Dr. Komaeda: As long as my patient has hope in my methods, then all should go to plan.
It's hard to shake your head to someone who speaks so convincingly. Maybe you're not entirely sold on these methods, but how can you push back against that?
He ticks every ethical boundary box on the table before you even have a chance to point them out.
It's for the best... isn't it?
But really, it's too late to say anything else. Before you know it, you're shaking his gloved hand, smiling back into eyes peeking over that surgical mask, and letting him usher you out the door.
Evening has passed now, and all that orange glory had long sunk into the western sky.
If the buzzing, flickering street lights weren't hanging over the pathway on your way home, and the illustrious city windows from complexes that never reached high enough to be noteworthy, you'd probably get lost.
But you find your way, eventually.
And just like clockwork, you open your own front door, kick off your canvas shoes only barely hanging onto your feet, feel your eyelids closing, and force yourself to the mattress you never bothered to buy the frame for.
It's hard to tell how many days passed until you received the next phone call.
Or, 'missed' would be the correct term to use. The answer phone flashed white until you dragged yourself to check it.
Dr. Komaeda: Hello. I'm hoping you've been well. I'm calling to let you know that Mod 33's surgery—
You can't hear him during this part. Maybe the line cut out? A violent clash of noise sounded the line instead, ending all at once.
Dr. Komaeda: —able to visit from now! I hope the delay hasn't been too hard. I know what it's like, to wait for a friend.
That's right. Mod 33's surgery...
A call like this must mean Dr. Komaeda has already operated.
You suppose it's time to return to the hospital one last time.
You leave early the next morning. It's hardly sunrise, and the fog is still hovering over the pavement just as closely as the dew clings to the grass.
Mod 33 isn't in his usual hospital room, of course. A nurse guides you to the surgery ward, where he is in recovery.
You've been here many times.
"A frail boy, who will probably need many surgeries in his lifetime..." That's how Doctor Komaeda described your friend.
And each time, each subsequent operation he had, you got more and more used to these frequent surgeries.
Maybe Mod 33 thought even less of it than you. Being prepped for surgery, being put under anaesthesia, being put under the knife.
And his doctor, like a trained chef, making his alterations as if he were preparing a fine dish...
You can't really help that you still feel nervous waiting to see the results, however.
But you shouldn't be thinking of yourself.
No... Isn't this a time to be thankful?
You shall be thankful, filled with gratitude, when you see his remarkable form post-operation.
Gathering your courage, you open the door to his room.
There's a lump under the sheets where Mod 33 is resting...
“Mod 33, I-”
“I came to see you.”
“I... your... your surgery. I came to see your surgery.”
The blankets shift around as Mod 33 turns to look at you.
“my... best friend.”
“you didnt leave me.”
... ... ...
Doctor Komaeda was right.
Today is the beginning of a new era.
🍁true end: the new turkeyment