XLIV
There was little the orderlies could do to contain the panic, mainly because they were part of the panic. Cages burst open, walls split in two, and from a crack in the ceiling, Heaven itself started to cry. It was frantic to say the least, the rate in which chaos spread so thoroughly through Ward Number Five.
Feeling overpowered, The Doctor burst out of his office. His mind filled with thoughts of imminent dread one second, and immeasurable success the next. He patted on his own back and then beat his sovereign chest, only to turn on himself by slapping his own face, being beaten by the weight of his own potential; both good and bad.
Light now rained from above and it oozed too, from open pores and cold nipples, in the walls and along the floor. All of Ward Number Five was a fluorescent sticky mess. Orderlies fought with patients, scampering over one another like rabid dogs to press their mouths against an open pore or nipple, and suck the Light into their souls.
The Doctor braved himself, adorning his flashing goggles and holding a small hand held pump to his mouth. It was an incredible task, trying to navigate through such madness with his eyes blinded by strobing Light, and his hands, which could have been fending off Light addled souls, working tirelessly on a small pump, extracting whatever filth had managed to virally work its way into his being.
“Lord of Light and Light of Love….” he screamed, unable to focus on any one particular prayer.
Around him, orgies sprung up like weeds in a neglected garden. As too did every manner of interaction; from amiable to downright terrible. There were souls in pleasant and gay embrace, slow dancing amongst a barrage of fist fights, which were breaking out all over the place. Age and sex were of no concern. Blow after blow was traded like cheap currency. And pain was just one of many sensations of which all of the patients, as it turns out, had so fondly missed.
Trapped between the sound of that blasted radio, and that girl’s incessant crying, The Doctor sat, negating the way that he felt, ignoring the tingling on the back of his wrist, and the cool shivers that ran up his spine. He did his best too, to ignore the desire that was almost overwhelming - to take a stranger by the hand, look them in the eye and hug them, as if he were hugging his own soul; and apologize for what he was about to do.