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The old digital clock that jutted out at the end of the lowest shelf above the desk showed 10:38 AM but he could have sworn only a few minutes had passed since he last looked at it, when it showed 08:46 AM. The ancient TV set sounded ear-piercing, though, in reality, it was at its standard volume; “Submerse yourself in orange wholesomeness. Tiancha. Kumquat for the soul”… “Mr Stud. All night, every night. Don’t be soft, upgrade now”… “Feeling tired? Bored? Powerless? Not anymore! Experience all of Chromanticore’s sixteen new flavours and mix it up!”... “Ni-cola! Taste the lo-”
“Fuck off” he grumbled, and in protest to the mind-numbing corpo advertisements that television channels seemed to play more than the actual shows that kept them on the air, he turned off the TV altogether. But the silence was even more deafening, he hated silence. Just as he considered turning on the radio, a familiar smell wafted in through the broken windowpane on the wall behind him, it smelled faintly of garlic and ginger, and at that moment he realised how much he missed his mother. He missed talking to her, missed the way she caressed his forehead when he was stressed, missed talking in Urdu and missed her home-cooked meals. Naturally, he then missed his father too; his belly laugh, the way he could always tell when something was bothering him, the way he’d pat his back when he wanted to talk.
He pushed himself away from the desk, pushed the papers towards the computer monitor then turned in his swivel chair so he was facing away from the desk altogether. He took the pen out from between his teeth and wiped it on his black cargo pants as he mumbled “ten hours ahead”. ‘They’d probably be awake’ he speculated as he dialled his mother’s number on his burner cellular phone, which was nearly as old as the TV.
“Hi Ammi, it’s me… I know, it’s another number, don’t worry about it… How are you?... you should get him to fix it then…” he spun around in his chair slowly as he spoke, occasionally knocking his booted foot against the bottom of the desk to spin in the other direction. It sounded like his mother was having trouble hearing him and he couldn’t hear her very well either, likely due to the instability of the crappy old phone. He stood up and walked toward the TV. He ambiently dusted the TV screen with the back of his sleeve as he continued talking.
“Can you hear me now? I said you should get him to fix it… How is Baba anyway? Did he play in the end?... 87? That’s the devil’s number… No, I know… I remember, it was 20 overs and 50 runs, it’s impressive, you know?” He remembered the cricket match well, though it was not official, family members versus other family members, during a group vacation, the game was enjoyable and it was one of the memories he most cherished from that trip, which he realised was now well over ten years ago. He decided to move things around the desk shelf, holding the phone against his ear with his shoulder so he could use both hands.
“I bet… Well, he shouldn’t be… You know that he shouldn’t be working, tell them to go to their GP… I know it’s different there…” The trouble with family, especially his family in Karachi, is that they would rather go to his retired, and elderly, mother and or father for medical advice instead of seeking the attention they needed at actual medical facilities. But he knew that the healthcare delivery system in Pakistan was still complex, even in the 2070’s. As his mother began criticising the healthcare system in the NUSA, including her own experiences of the time she lived and worked in Night City, he could tell she was gearing up to talk about a very familiar subject; coming home. He leaned against the wall and took the phone from his shoulder, swapping hands to continue the call so he could use his dominant hand to scratch his neck and chin.
“You say that every time and I say the same thing, I can’t just up and leave… well you haven’t come to visit me either, it’s a two-way street… Of course, I don’t want you to actually come here, the city is getting worse every day… I know, but it’s worse now… Don’t start this again… You’re not even from Pakistan, neither am I, we were both born in Croydon, so was Baba… if you want to get technical by your own definition then our home is London and I don’t really want to go back there either” Home - he felt right at home in Night City, not in Pakistan where his grandparents were from, and not in England where his parents were born and where he spent the first six months of his life.
Besides the food his parents cooked for him when he was a child and the old childhood passport he had somewhere in a drawer at his apartment, he had no affiliation to the country that was nearly four thousand miles away. He never met his grandparents or any of his extended family and frankly, he had no desire to get to know them better after the stories he heard from his parents about how their parents basically disowned them both just because they fell in love with each other instead of the matches picked out for them.
He realised how hot it was when the breeze he felt on his cheeks and neck was warm so he took his long white coat off after putting the phone on louder speaker and placing it on the windowsill. He folded it lazily so it didn’t drag on the ground, wrapped it and then secured it around his waist, leaving his shoulders and arms bare as he was only wearing a thin black vest top due to the summer weather. He picked up the phone again, switched off the loudspeaker, and his mother had thankfully moved onto the subject of her definition of proper food.
“Of course… I can’t, you know what the food here is like… You know that I can’t grow my own-... no, I know… No, chickpeas and paneer, maybe prawns or something… We’ll see… No, I don’t always say that… I don’t… fine, maybe I do but it’s not because I don’t want to-” As they chatted, he could hear the telltale signs of a car pulling up outside the clinic and a patient about to make their way in; if it wasn’t the sound of the tyres screeching to a halt and two doors slamming then it was the high pitched moo-like feminine scream that gave it away. He turned to the door to his office and saw a man holding up a heavily pregnant woman who was very obviously in labour, and he recognised them both, this was no emergency.
“Doctor Khan! Asra! ¡Please! My wife, ¡help me!” the younger man pleaded, and they both made their way further inside the office. As the new father-to-be panicked he switched between Spanish and English, which wasn’t a problem for Asra given he had the latest translator technology and spoke fluent Spanish anyway.
“Ammi I need to go, I love you and I love Abba, stay well” Asra abruptly ended the phone call, made a mental note to apologise to his mother later, smiled at the couple and walked back to his desk, picking up his stethoscope and other medical devices that may or may not have been stolen from the Trauma Team. He placed the scope around his neck and the other devices in the back pockets of his pants.
“Doc’, please!” the man pleaded again as he brushed his wife’s hair away from her face with his fingers tenderly, a pained and worried expression on his face that he wasn’t able to hide for her sake.
“It’s alright Andres, ‘m here” Asra reassured him calmly as he approached them “I’d say you can relax now but we have some work to do. How far apart are the contractions?” he asked, gesturing for Andres to change how he held his wife. She hooked her arms around each of their necks, Asra held her wrist and placed a firm hand around the back of her ribs whilst her husband held her forearm and had his other hand placed at the base of her spine.
“Uh- f-four minutes and they last for thirty seconds I-I think. Her water broke outside when we got out of the car just now” Andres stammered as he tried his best to recall the important details whilst letting his wife’s head rest against him as they made their way through the office.
“Good, then the rain can clean it up” Asra chuckled as he led them through an empty door frame and into a patient treatment room at the back of the building. The paint on the walls was chipping off in places, a gun had clearly been fired in the room and the ceilings were never fixed to hide the bullet holes, the linoleum flooring was fraying at the edges and there was a combination of medical equipment in the room that made is unclear whether it was this room was for a dentist or a doctor. “Sofía, I wasn’t expectin’ you till Friday, but I see you dressed for the occasion,” he remarked as he and her husband helped her onto an electric treatment couch that was in the middle of the room, parts of the blue discoloured leather had holes in it too so the comfortable foam layer underneath was visible and poking out in places.
“Doctor, can’t you give me something for the pain, please? It’s like a nightmare, I think I’m dying” Sofía begged, slamming her hand on her husband’s stomach, gripping and twisting his shirt in her fist as she panted heavily and all he could do was comfort her with soft touches and gentle whispers. She was dressed in a nightgown that reached her knees, the bleach marks and printed design that was peeling off in places gave away how old the garment was. Whilst her husband pulled the nightgown up so it clumped up underneath her breasts, exposing her bottom half entirely, Asra was wearing his white coat again and washed his hands in the nearby sink. The water pressure was low and it was either too hot or too cold, but the water ran and that was the most important part. He cleaned up to his elbows and scrubbed under his nails with a little brush.
“Yeah, anything, she’s screaming way more than she did with the first two-” Andres tried to express how worried he was but he was interrupted by his wife.
“Shut up, this is all your fault!” She yelled out, tugging at his t-shirt that was still in her vice grip, her other hand gripping the top of the couch behind her hand.
“Come on now, you two should be experts at this by now, this is your third. Y’know it’s always worth it in the end” Asra reminded them, knowing that this wasn’t true aggression between the two.
“It’s like I forget what it’s like every time” She whined.
“Don’ worry ‘bout that now, let’s focus on this baby. Deep breaths, Sofía, d‘ya remember? Like this”, he breathed in and out deeply and continued until she was breathing in sync with him “that’s it”. He said as he dragged the metal stool, which probably had a comfortable cushion attached to it at one point in time, so he was positioned at the bottom of the couch “you shaved?” he asked as he saw she was completely hairless. Asra took out one of the devices from his back pocket and measured the mother’s pulse, and took her temperature and blood pressure - all were within the expected ranges.
“Andres did it two days ago” Sofía finally let go of the shirt and pulled at her husband’s jacket pocket “he’s got my piss in his pocket too” she said before moaning deeply as another contraction surged, her husband taking her hand so she could squeeze it tightly.
“Oh yeah, here” With his free hand, the father took out a jar from his pocket that was filled halfway with his wife’s urine.
“You’re both professionals then, I’ll take that” Asra smiled as he took the jar from him and took it to the counter for testing. He quickly established that her protein was in a normal range as well “‘M just goin’ to examine you and see where we stand, okay? Keep breathing, just like you’re doin’”. If the weather was colder he would’ve rubbed his hands together to get them a little warm, but it was hot enough and he was already boiling under the coat again. With both hands he carefully and measuredly examined her abdomen to check the baby’s position “alright, that’s progressing nicely. ‘M just goin’ to listen to baby’s heart rate” he said as he used his stethoscope to listen to the heart as he described “everything is exactly as it should be Sofía” he smiled, giving her a reassuring rub on her lower thigh after he hooked the device around his neck again. He walked around to his stool again and took a seat “I need to examine you internally as well, okay?” he waited for her to nod before proceeding.
“My first two were born at the hospital in Little China, we had coverage then” she nodded quickly and grunted as the older man began examining her cervix after pulling on some white latex gloves “but it’s so expensive now Doctor, we had no choice-
“Don’t think about that now, baby is almost here” He decided at that moment that she would probably feel safer if he spoke Spanish with her “Andres, take your coat off, wash your hands up to your elbows and then stand on my right” He continued to coach her with her breathing, glancing over at her husband to check his progress now and then “I can see your baby’s head” he announced as he watched it make its way through the birth canal. He observed, making sure to keep an eye out for any signs that something would go wrong.
“Oh god, fucking kill me! I can’t do this! It’s ripping me apart!” She yelled out, her arms flailing above her head.
“Sofía, I need you to turn so your right knee is under your chin and Andres, you’re going to keep her left ankle on your shoulder,” he said as he shifted his position on the stool. Hopefully, the change in position would help the mother “See, it’s all floodin’ back now” he said, keeping the tips of his fingers against the top of the baby’s head as she moved into the position he requested, her husband caressing her leg gently with one hand as he held her foot on his shoulder with the other.
“You’re amazing, love, I don’t know how you do this, it’s like that head is bigger than my head!” he shouted gleefully, despite his wife’s agony.
“Use the next contraction Sofía” Asra said firmly, the baby’s head now resting entirely in the palm of his hand.
“I’ll fucking kill you, Andres! You son of a bitch, fucking scum! I’ll rip your fucking head off and use it as an ashtray! I’ll cut your throat and shit down your neck!” she screamed as the baby’s head came out with the contraction the doctor knew was coming.
“That’s the head is born. Pant for me Sofía, like a dog after a run, just like that. Don’t push too hard” he reminded her as he held the baby’s face in his hand as the body turned naturally, his hand prepared to catch the slippery baby “little push now, little push”.
“It’s the best head I’ve ever seen!” Andres cried happily, patting his wife’s knee in excitement.
“Is it nearly here- please tell me it’s nearly here!” she cried out.
“Yes it is… well done, well done, that’s it, see, you’re a natural. Pant again for me” Asra mimicked the breathing he needed her to do to slow the baby as it came out. And when it did, the mother cried happily, her body sagging into the chair. The baby cried out loudly and the liquid that came with it had splashed all over the doctor’s clothes and the floor, but he wasn’t upset, how could he be after witnessing a new life?
“It’s a girl, my love! Another daughter!” The father kissed his wife’s ankle as he watched the doctor handle the newborn.
“Hello little one, welcome to Night City. Here’s your mama” Asra said as he lifted the baby onto the mother’s chest. Sofía held her new daughter with both arms, continuing to cry
“She’s beautiful Andres!” Sofía murmured as she stared at her daughter’s scrunched-up face.
“I know, you’re a champion baby, I love you,” Andres said, followed by a plethora of happy prayers.
“Stay there, for now, you can cut the cord in a minute,” Asra said as he got up and grabbed a dish, two clamps and some scissors that he’d prepared earlier, from the counter “Turn back so you’re sitting up-right, Andres help her with her leg,” he said, gesturing her into the original position of both legs spread open and feet resting on the edges. He watched the baby calm as her mother cradled her and sang softly to her. After a couple of minutes he clamped the baby’s cord in two places and then spoke softly “you can cut the cord now buddy” he said, handing him the scissors and pointing to the correct spot. Andres had done it twice before, so the cord's texture was no surprise to him.
“I’ll just need to examine baby” Asra smiled as he stood up, taking off his gloves and throwing them into a nearby medical waste bin. He carefully took the baby in both hands and brought it over to the counter where there were weighing scales and other bits of equipment. He placed the baby onto some soft and thick blankets and checked it over “Yep, ten fingers and ten toes, two blue eyes and a pair of lungs that work” he said as the baby began crying again, likely due to the change of textures and overwhelming new senses “Andres, you can wash baby-”
“Carmen. Carmen Isabella” both parents spoke at the same time.
“Beautiful name. Andres, you can wash her in that sink over there” he said and handed the baby over to the father. He took out a new pair of gloves and sat back down on the stool, checking the mother for any signs of distress as he waited for the afterbirth. He placed a firm hand on her stomach and felt for the final contraction. He placed the dish underneath her as he gently pushed on her stomach. He checked the placenta was complete whilst it was in the dish and when he was satisfied that it came out whole, he stood up with the dish in hand “I’ll just get this outta the way and make sure Sofía is comfortable then I’ll need to do some more checks on Carmen”. Asra took the dish into a room that wasn’t the office, it was a back room that connected to a small space outside where there was a barrel he burned things in. He placed the dish next to the back door and then came back in, seeing Andres sing to the baby as he washed her.
When the baby was sufficiently washed, he took her in his arms and brought her back over to the counter with the scales, gently rocking her up and down in his arms. He weighed her “9lbs exactly” and took one of the medical devices from behind the machine.
“I knew she would be heavy, I just knew it. When can I feed her?” Sofía asked, she was now sitting up with her legs flattened down but still apart, her nightgown covering her up again.
“I’ll just do those checks I talked about and get her wrapped up, then she’s all yours” Asra smiled at the baby now that her eyes were open and she sucked on her closed fist, her little legs jittering now and then.
“Doctor, where you’re from, are there traditions when a baby is born?” Andres asked as he brushed his wife’s hair with his fingers. Asra could explain his upbringing, point out his accent, explain where he was born, where his parents were born, how he felt just as American as they likely did or how he was pretty agnostic but he knew the question wasn’t a malicious one - it may be ignorant, but it came from a place of curiosity. They’d both just been through something traumatic, even if the result was beautiful.
“In my parents' religion, there is something called jatakarma, it’s a samskaras - a rite of passage - that takes place after a baby is born. It’s supposed t’solidify the father’s connection to the baby. He mixes clarified butter and honey together in a pot and wets the baby’s lips or dabs some under their tongue or maybe the inside of their cheek. He’d do that and maybe say a few hymns or pray. Mother and baby are then supposed t’be kept in confinement for ten days. Medically, it’s not something I’d ever recommend. Honey can contain bacteria which is bad for a baby’s intestines, they could get seriously ill. Saturated fats are bad for children and babies too. It’s also important for mothers to exercise gently after having a baby, fresh air is important for the baby too, goin’ for walks outside together is important” whilst he spoke, they listened intently, and he completed all the necessary checks and wrapped her up in a soft white blanket that had the Trauma Team’s logo stitched into it “she’s had her eye drops, her vitamin K and Hep B shots. She’s got the same blood type as you Andres and her hearin’ seems perfectly fine too” he placed the baby back into the mother’s arms “ah see, you remember exactly how feeding works” he pat Sofía’s shoulder as she encouraged the baby to breastfeed “let me just send you over her birth certificate and other registration documents” he sent it over digitally, eyes lighting up and shining with a blue hue as he sent them over to Andres, who’s eyes lit up a few seconds later having received said documents.
“Thank you Doctor” he smiled warmly and went to shake Asra’s hand.
“Hey, don’t thank me. Your wife is the hero, and you did great too” Asra peeled the gloves off and shook the hand that was stretched out before him. “I’ll give you a few minutes to yourself, I just need to change my clothes” he gestured to the various liquids that coated his black vest top.
He exhaled deeply, swiping the back of his wrist against his forehead. ‘It’s too damn hot’ he complained inwardly as he pulled his top off by bending forward slightly and lifting it over his head. Now that his top half was exposed, his abs, various scars, tattoos and a single birthmark were on display to anyone who might walk in. He wiped his arms and his underarms with his dirty top and also wiped the back of his neck followed by swiftly running his fingers through his thick black hair so it was still pushed back. He made a mental note that he’d need another haircut soon, maybe another fade. The temperature was affecting how well the styling product kept the strands in place, a few fell onto his face and rest against his long eyelashes. His wireless phone, a phone completely separate from the one he called his mother on, rang in his ears and he answered it without delay after his optics flashed up the caller ID.
“Vik, y’caught me at a bad time… poker?” intrigued, he reached into a short locker that was next to the desk and looked through what clothes he had stored “When?... Yeah, I can do tonight. With who?... Ugh, I hate that guy… ‘cause he’s a fuckin’ asshole… he’s fuckin’ dumb too, can’t tell the difference between- fine, fine” he pulled on a new vest top, a dark camo green one “No, Texas Hold 'Em is fine, I don’t feel like anythin’ complicated today… y’better get something in that’s better than Broseph… because it tastes like fuckin’ shit… alright I’ll see you at nine, bye” he hang up the call and walked back into the treatment room. He leaned against the door frame; hands in his pockets, one boot crossed over his other boot at the ankle “how we doin’?”
“She’s perfect, Doc. I don’t know how to thank you” Andres grinned widely, his eyes red and cheeks blotchy from how much he’d cried.
“Y’don’t have to. Let me just get you some sanitary pads” he walked over to the cupboard closest to the sink and frowned at what little stock he could see. If that edgerunner hadn’t taken a wrong turn like Padre said he did, he’d be seeing a lot more on these shelves, and the edgerunner wouldn’t have lost his life. In this situation, he’d normally offer a week’s supply, if he was in a generous mood he’d offer more, but the circumstances were what they were. He took out a box that contained five maternity pads and then a different box that contained 25 maxi pads, a smile on his face as he turned back around to the parents “here, you remember the drill, right?” he handed them off to Andres.
“Yeah, yeah, I remember. You were right, it’s worth it” Sofía didn’t take her eyes off the baby for one moment.
“‘M not goin’ to rush you out, you take your time gettin’ ready, but I see no reason why you can’t go home and get settled today” Asra looked down at Carmen as she nursed at her mother’s breast and pat Andres on the back as he left the room again.
With a tired sigh, he slumped down into his chair and patted at the pockets on his thighs for a carton of cigarettes. ‘Hypocrite’ he thought as he took the pack out and examined it. Three left. As he leaned on one of the armrests he opened and closed the lid, thinking over and over again about whether to smoke one or not. He dropped them on the desk, rubbed at his forehead with both hands and then pinched the bridge of his nose as he concluded he’d need to go to another fixer and put out work for more supplies, and not just for this location either. He was running low on everything in his other primary care clinics. He rest his head back against the headrest on his chair and smirked slowly. At least he’d get the chance to win more money from Viktor Vektor tonight.