There were eighteen wards in the Institute, and the Bat Headed Nurse was responsible for all of them. From ICU through to monitoring, test department to palliative, the Bat Headed Nurse oversaw them all.
Of course, she had a name (it was Doreen) but nobody ever called her that. Her odd appearance had been a hindrance to her career up to a point, but once she’d achieved the relevant experience and qualifications, her off-putting facial features seemed more of a curiosity than a barrier. Her bedside manner had always been brusque and mechanistic, but this was a trait she shared with a good many matrons.
The power cut of the previous night had been challenging. Most of the machines had reset, some had lost data. Some insert points had started to show signs of infection, but Doreen quickly got the nurses in order and systematically did her rounds, checking on all the patients and resolving issues as they arose. A detailed report to the board was already formulating in her head when she turned a corner into Ward 14 (Dislocations) and stopped in her tracks.
In the bed closest to her was Dr Terrence. The de facto head of the Institute who to her knowledge had no history of Dislocation. She approached his bed.
“Sir? I didn’t realise you’d been… admitted?” she said. The director lay motionless, one eyelid twitching rhythmically.
“I’ve had… a few issues,” Terrence replied. “Thought it best to get checked out.”
“Always, sir,” replied Doreen with a twitch of her ears. “Too many resets?”
“Perhaps,” said Terrence, suddenly looking sad. “Could you take this away for me please?” He motioned to the bedside table, upon which was a Shar Pei Skull.
“Of course sir,” replied the Bat Headed Nurse. She tucked the skull into her pocket and left the ward.