Ca**ie_w - The Administration- ROUGH DRAFT lyrics

Life after med-school is supposed to be a breeze; the doctors I've shadowed told me post-grad life is the best time of your life. You have money, a career, and the status of being a big shot doctor, especially if you landed a job with the government, like I did. What I've come to realize, is that life post-med-school is nothing I could have ever imagined in my wildest nightmares. I grew up in a Catholic household, went to Catholic school, and even to a Catholic college. Sure, I had my party days toward the end of high school and in college, but I've always liked to think that I have a strong moral compa**. I know the difference from right and wrong, and I've always believed that when put in the position, I would choose right over wrong no matter how difficult that decision may be. “It's not wrong, Nathaniel,” my wife scoffed at me for the one-hundredth time. “It's just our job, we're just doing what we're told to do and there's nothing wrong with that. We took an oath.” The disgust I felt within myself when she said those words to me was hard to hold in. “We also took an oath in med-school before all this craziness started,” I replied to her in a tone of voice a man should never speak to his wife in. “The ridiculous oath you're talking about is one to a government I don't agree with and one that you used to despise. What happened to those beliefs of yours?” “My beliefs are still fundamentally the same,” she screamed at me. “I am in no way any different than when you met me.” Again, disgust. I felt it ripping my inside and exploding out of me like an atomic bomb ready to destroy its surroundings. “The girl I met in college would never go along with this. She was right and just and saw the world clearly, and she certainly didn't let money and power be the driving force of her decisions.” Before she could respond, I turned around and slammed our bedroom door shut. I didn't need to tell her I would be sleeping on the couch tonight, she knew. Lately we have been spending most of our nights apart. We come home from work together, try to act as if everything is okay, make dinner, cuddle while watching the news or a movie, and end the evening with a walk around the neighborhood. In these moments, I feel as though the world around me is in tact and that the woman holding my hand is still the wonderful and charmingly sarcastic woman I married two years ago. It is in these small moments that I am happiest. I am also always aware in some part of my mind that this sense of calm and being content with my wife is about to fade away quickly. It happens at night, the thoughts and feelings of guilt, confusion, and self-hatred that never seem to concede. The darkness tightens around my chest until I can't breath and panic arises within me. The moral compa** I once was so proud of possessing is gone. So far gone, I start to believe that I've lost it forever. I always peer over at my wife during these times, she's the one who knows how to calm me down and rea**ure me everything is okay. At least she used to be. Now when I look at her, she's reading a book peacefully or watching the TV as though she doesn't have a care in the world. She'll look over at me when she feels my gaze and usually reaches out to gently rub my wavy, messy hair and smile before continuing with what she was doing before. I would do anything to feel her kind of peace and serenity after a day at work with a job like ours. When we first met, she was the annoying know it all in my human physiology cla** junior year. I was at the top of my partying game and was barely scratching bye with a 4.0 GPA. I was one of those annoying kids who could party four times a week and still get straight A's. Amber hated me for it. Not for being able to easily get good grades, but because I wasn't serious about anything in my life, and we were paired up as partners for the entire semester. I had seen her around campus and had a few cla**es with her before this, but I didn't know anything about her. I was a serial dater; I wouldn't even call what I did in college dating, but nonetheless that all changed after we got to know each other. I couldn't control it; my feelings for her grew so strongly so quickly that she terrified me. After awkwardly asking her out on a date and taking her on a few awkward dates that eventually became natural and light, we began dating. She changed me back into the person my parents raised me to be. I didn't party as much, I respected her more than any other girl I have ever dated, and started to feel better about myself and my future. She was everything. Now, when I look at her, it's hard to believe that the woman lying next to me is the same woman that made me cry when I was watching her walk towards me on our wedding day. Night after night we have the same argument. I'm disgusted and guilty while she tries to justify why she doesn't feel the same way as I do. “The way the agency explained it to us makes me believe that what we do under their orders is right. They're only trying to keep our country safe and under control.” Amber has always seen the world gray, and not black and white. That is one of the reasons I fell in love with her. She always has compa**ion for people who don't deserve compa**ion. But the world is not always black and white. Euthanizing innocent young people because the government sees them as a threat to society is not black and white or gray. It's wrong. The next morning I wake up to the sound of Amber making coffee. When I stagger into the kitchen wiping sleep from my eyes, she smiles a small smile at me and hands me a mug. The sunlight of a new day hits her in a painstakingly beautiful way that helps me remember why I fell in love with her. After giving her a gentle kiss we part ways and get ready for work. Dark thoughts consume me on the silent car ride to the hospital. Amber hates that work is so difficult for me. She believes that she is partaking in a cause to save the country from turmoil. What turmoil? I couldn't answer that honestly in front of God himself. “I don't care if this new president thinks he's saving America. k**ing innocent 18-year olds because of a test his administration designed is wrong,” I ramble to Amber as we near the hospital. “Nate,” she looks at me irritated and continues, “President LAST NAME and his administration have clear goals. They created a highly sophisticated test that can read human genes and predict what their future will be. He's not just k**ing off random people, he being proactive and fighting crime and evil-doing early on. You know we aren't supposed to discuss this, so please just drop it.” “That's what they want you to believe,” I retaliated. “Who knows what the government's actual plan is. For all you know this could be genocide or an act of terrorism within our own border.” “You've been watching too many cop shows.” With a shake of her head and a look of disdain she got out of the car and walked into the building without me. As I watch her walk away, I take a moment for myself and take some deep breaths as if gathering all the strength I can muster to get through another day of following orders I don't agree with. When we were first a**igned to be on the genetic testing floor, I was excited because it was a new department and a new area of research. I thought I would be helping parents of children with disabilities and doing extensive research on possible preventative procedures to prevent genetic diseases and disabilities. Our first day started with a high security meeting. Before we were even told what our job would consist of, we had to sign a contract of complete secrecy. We couldn't talk to anyone about what we were about to do, not even our co-employees. Signing those papers made us the highest-paid doctors in the world. Whatever we were about to do was obviously important to the president. Glancing sideways towards Amber, we both signed the papers. This is my biggest regret in life. I used to see regrets as small activities or risks that people wish they would or wouldn't have done, like not talking to that cute girl in your biology cla** or wishing you didn't cheat on so many of your past girlfriends. The meaning of regret has changed for me now. When I signed that contract, I signed my life away. I am changed forever. Walking into my office and looking over my schedule is how I start my day every day. I always quickly say a prayer for the young people coming in to see me today. I am apprehensive towards this theory on genetic testing and predicting what these kids will be like one day. We test each and every kid in the city when they turn eighteen or right after they graduate from high school if they are young for their grade. The innocence I see before I test most of these kids is what haunts me the most. They still have their entire lives ahead of them and a mutation in their genetic material doesn't dictate what decisions they will end up making. I am a murderer, a murderer of youth and innocence. The government is covering up the d**hs they have caused by spreading word of a flu epidemic, like the one of 1918. I have tried to snoop around to figure out what is really behind all of the k**ing. Being proactive and stopping crime before it happens is hard for me to believe to be the reason behind the President's agenda. He is neither a Democrat nor Republican. He is our country's first Independent President and has stirred up a lot of controversy. No one knows his beliefs or understands his agenda for our country. I don't trust him, and I am going to do everything in my power to figure out what is happening. My thoughts are interrupted when I hear my door open and my first patient of the day is here. He is a tall and lanky boy with bad acne. Austin Davis, 18 years old. “Hi Austin, my name is Doctor Weber,” I smile at him to help him feel comfortable. “We're just going to do some quick government-mandated tests and you'll be on your way.” Austin looks at me sheepishly and nods his head. Placing the neurotransmitters on different areas of his head, I gently tap him so he leans back against the chair. “Now these tests are only meant to see if you are ready for a college environment and to make sure what you learned in high school will help you succeed.” This was the lie that always cut deep into my soul. I tell this lie every day, and every day this is the lie that gets these kids euthanized. I want to scream out at him to run away and never come back, but I continued to turn the lights off and start the machine. Praying that I don't find the mutation in his genes that will decide his fate, I look over at Austin and see him sitting with his eyes closed, relaxing as if nothing bad will ever happen to him. The serenity on face caused me to tremble, so I forced to myself to look away and wait for the machine to do its job. Fifteen minutes later, a loud, fast paced beeping let me know the test was finished. Taking a deep breath, I looked at his results and felt my heart sink. The gene the government wants extinct lies within Austin Davis' genetic material. “I'll be right back Austin,” I say as I try to smile. “I just need to get a vaccination necessary for you to go to college next fall.” Walking out the door, I feel tears stinging my eyes and my chest becoming heavy. In five minutes time, I'm going to inject a vaccine that produces flu-like symptoms and will eventually stop Austin's heart within a week. After grabbing the vile, which feels more like a weapon in my hand, I return to the room and inject it into Austin's arm. No doubt I'll see him back here this time next week with his parents, and he'll be dying of the flu. My next two patients didn't carry the gene and would most likely grow up to be a financial advisor and an elementary school teacher. I didn't ever think that after only one year out of med-school, I would be responsible for almost one hundred d**hs. Of course I expected to lose some patients, because it was part of the job, but I am the one responsible for these d**hs, not the one preventing them. I don't understand why Amber doesn't see this the way I do. When I hear the door open again, I don't turn around because I am still trying to regain composure. “Doctor Weber,” a voice says. “Wow, I never thought I would hear myself saying those words.” I feel my heart stop for a millisecond and turn around to see Scarlet Johnson staring back at me. “Scar,” I hear myself say incredulously. “What on earth are you doing here? These appointments are for seniors in high school.” Scarlet continued to stare back at me with a wide grin plastered across her face. “What are you doing here,” I demanded, suddenly afraid and angry. “You can't be here. You need to leave.” “Well jeez, Nate. I know our breakup was bad but its almost been eight years, I thought I would get a littler warmer of a welcome than that.” Staring back at her my mind was going to fast I could barely keep up with my thoughts. I want to embrace her and welcome her and ask her what her life is like now. But on the other hand, I want to push her away and tell her to leave the hospital and never come back. Coming down from my thoughts, I smile back at her and wrap my arms around her in a warm embrace. Scarlet was my high school sweetheart, my first love. Youth and stupidity eventually ruined our relationship shortly after our junior year ended, and she moved to Germany with her family. Her dad is a Captain in the military and used to move around a lot. I never thought I would see her again. “What brings you back home,” I asked her tentatively. “Why are you in my office, being tested like you're eighteen years old?” “I've been in Germany ever since I moved there with my family,” Scarlet explained to me. “Some stuff happened and I decided to come home. I didn't think it would be this weird to see you again.” Looking over the details of her smiling face, I notice that she has aged, but only a little. Time has only made her more beautiful. Being with her made me feel sixteen again, and the world around me started to fade away the longer I looked at her. “When I got to customs, they told me I had to go get this new genetic test done within a week of being in the country. Something the new president is making mandatory to kids when they graduate high school and people born in American immigrating back into the United States,” she explained. “What do these tests do, Nate?” Her question brought me back to reality. I didn't know immigrants were being tested too. What is President Loudenslager up to? Why does he only want natural-born citizens of the United States to be tested and not everyone else? Looking back at Scarlet, there is know way she could carry the gene that the president believes causes crime, so I hastily decide to continue my job as if nothing wrong was happening. “It's just a test to see if you are ready to thrive and be successful as an adult in the U.S.. That's why most people who are tested are usually kids who just graduated from high school,” I explained to her as I connected the neurotransmitters to her head and started the test. When the test was over I looked over it and felt the blood drain from my face. She has the gene. Scarlet. One of the kindest people I know. “Get up,” I hear myself say violently to her. “I'm taking you away from here. I deleted your test. Let's go.” Not thinking, just moving. That is how time feels right now. Ignoring Scarlet's relentless questioning, I open my car door for her and slam it shut. Getting in the other side, I start the car, back out, and speed away from the hospital. Images of my wife are flying through my mind, but I shake them to the side. She chose her side, and now I'm finally choosing mine. I will find out what these genetic tests really indicate and why President Loudenslager and his administration are so eager to dispose of people with certain genes present. “Nate stop!” I ignore Scarlet and pull into my driveway. “Stay here,” I say to her as I run inside and start packing a bag full of clothes and stuff the emergency fund Amber has been saving into my wallet. “ARE YOU INSANE,” Scarlet screeches at me when I walk out of my bedroom. “I am NOT getting back in that car with you until you tell me what the hell is going on.” “These tests,” I say as I think of a way to explain the situation to her. “These tests are k**ing people- well the tests aren't k**ing people, but I am. The genetic testing, the president is testing people for a certain gene that he believes causes crime, and if that gene is found in a person, I have to k** them.” Breathlessly, I grab her arm and drag her toward the car and she thankfully gets in without a fight. I glance over at her as I'm pulling out of my driveway and see the look of shock mixed with confusion. “I'll explain more later when I know it's safe,” I say as I gently squeeze her bicep to rea**ure her. “Well this is definitely not the reunion I thought I would have with you,” Scarlet said and looked at me as though she wanted to laugh but couldn't because of the information she just discovered. I drove until we reached a hotel about thirty minutes away from town. I feel like I'm a criminal now, like I'm being looked for. I haven't had any calls from Amber yet, so the Department of Genetic Testing most likely hasn't found out I disappeared with a patient yet. This is good, I have some time to think of what to do next, where to go, and how to figure out why President Loudenslager wants certain genes k**ed out. “Will you please tell me what exactly it is that you do,” Scarlet asks quietly while staring out of the hotel room window. “I thought you were a doctor, I thought you helped save people, not k** them.” Looking over at her, I knew I needed to come clean and tell the complete truth, even though I necessarily didn't really even know the whole truth, just that I was k**ing young innocent kids based on a gene that might lead them to commit a crime someday. After telling Scarlet the entire story, she sat in silence for a few moments. “My dad is high up in the rankings in military intelligence,” she explained in a daze. “Maybe he could help us out. Even if you don't want to tell anyone else about this because of your contract, I can't just sit here and do nothing.” “Screw the contract, call him.” While Scarlet was on the phone with her dad, I tried to hear as much from both sides of the conversation as I could. Scarlet was making good progress, and her dad was saying how he's known about this genetic testing and how he's been skeptical of President Loudenslager since they were in the military together. The vibration of my phone on the dresser broke me out of my concentration. It was Amber. “YOU STOLE A PATIENT AND LEFT TOWN,” Amber screamed before I could even say hello. “WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? YOU ARE NOW A WANTED CRIMINAL! EVERYONE IS LOOKING FOR YOU!” “Amber calm down,” I said while I was trying to think of a way to convince her what I'm doing is right. “I'm at the Holiday Inn thirty miles from town. I'm fine. The government is testing natural-born Americans moving back into the country too. One of my old friend's came to get tested and had the gene. I'm not going to k** my friend, Amber. She is no enemy of this country.” And with that, there was silence on the other end of the phone. Amber, the one person I trusted with my entire being, left me in my greatest time of need. In this moment, it feels like she died, like the Amber I knew no longer existed. All that is left of importance in my life is to save Scarlet and let the citizens of the U.S. know what their president is doing to their youth. “Nate, my dad says he thinks he can hack into the Oval Office's computer and get information about the genetic testing,” Scarlet says, pushing my sadness aside. “We just need to wait about an hour and come up with a plan to expose this information so the country knows what's happening.” For the next hour we planned how to expose the president and his administration. Not many people have taken down entire administrations before, especially not many doctors who have personally been doing the president's dirty work. Our plan was perfect. Scarlet's dad will email us the information he finds about the genetic testing, we will record an interview between me and Scarlet asking me about the role I played in the d**hs, and then we would send the email to several news stations and hospitals around the country; hoping to stop the testing immediately by sending the information to hospitals. “We need to make sure we include evidence that links the flu epidemic to the vaccination given to kids who are about to start college,” I stated. “That will probably be the most important evidence to families who have lost children.” “Right,” Scarlet agreed. “My dad is getting the information now and sending it to me. All we need to do is get the news stations' and hospitals' contacts ready so we can send it right away.” After agreeing on the plan, Scarlet and I sat in silence for a few minutes, waiting for her dad to send us the email with the evidence. Slowly, then all at once, it hits me that my marriage is over. No matter what happens after we've figured out what President Loudenslager is really doing with the genetic testing, Amber isn't someone I can live the rest of my life with, knowing that she will go along with what is basically genocide. Looking at Amber though, I feel hope again. I feel young and naïve and that maybe, even after all of this, I could still be happy and have a family and grow old with someone. “I got it,” Scarlet exclaimed. “My dad sent us over one hundred pages of evidence.” We started to glance over the information, and learned that the gene President Loudenslager is afraid of doesn't actually predict crime and violence it predicts change and nobility. The gene isn't going to cause terror in the future of our country; t will cause great change. This generation, the generation that I've slowly been k**ing, is the generation that will eradicate racism, terrorism, s**ism, and all other forms of prejudice. Why is President Loudenslager afraid of this change? This could change our world for the better. The door to our hotel room slammed open, causing both Scarlet and I to look up from the computer. In the doorway, Amber is standing there with two police officers behind her, guns raised. “Amb-,” I started to say, but before I could even finish her name, I was shot in the chest. I looked over at Scarlet; she was already dead. Another gunshot. I am so numb and confused. I feel wetness seeping around me. I look around to feel what it is coming from. It's blood. My blood. I don't feel anything anymore, but one thing is certain, I am dying at the hands of my own wife. Looking back up at the computer screen, I press send; sending the evidence to all major news stations and hospitals before succumbing to my wounds and relaxing into the calm of the darkness.