"Watch Out for Falling Prices"
(Science fiction)

I was watching TV one day when I saw a news report about Wal-Mart's foray into the world of medical care. It seemed Wal-Mart was going to start putting doctor's offices in their stores, the same way the eye-care center and the photo studio and the beauty salon are there. That's right: discount medical care. On the surface, it makes sense; after all, it would be medical care people could afford.

Then I wondered... would the medical care be any good? Or would it be half-assed, like much of what Wal-Mart sells? Would it be worth it... or would we be risking a lot to have stuff done?

And what if it did catch on? What would the future hold for fast, in-and-out, discount medical care? How far would it go?
 

"Watch Out for Falling Prices"
by David M. Fitzpatrick

“Bob!” Laurie hollered from downstairs. “Are you ready?”

Bob Peters rubbed his fingers on his temples, trying to will the throbbing pain away. If only she’d turn the volume down on that mouth of hers, it wouldn’t hurt so badly. Well, that wasn’t true; but it would be nice if she’d shut up, anyway. Of course, he certainly couldn’t tell her anything like that. It wasn’t his place or his right.

“Bob!”

“I’m coming,” he called down, and his own voice sent a horde of tiny demons with hammers through his skull, pounding away. He was ready to do anything to relieve the pain—and almost anything to not have to live under her control all the time.

But that was a fantasy. At least she could do something about his headache. He got up off his antigrav bed and reached for his Blue Sox baseball cap, teetering and almost falling over. He snugged the cap on his head, and it felt like a steel band trying to keep his skull from exploding. The cap was the only personal belonging he actually owned—it had come with him from the farm in Antarctica a few years ago.

He took a step and dizzy nausea overwhelmed him, and he grabbed at the wall for support even as the autodoor sensed his presence and slid silently open. He closed his eyes and willed the pain away. It would all be over soon, he knew. Just a quick flight to World-Mart, and Laurie would make sure he was cured of this brain-screaming agony.

Like a movie zombie, his steps jerking and halting, he made his way to the motion stairs and let them glide him down to the first floor. Laurie was waiting in the dining room, woven-gold purse over her shoulder, arms crossed, glaring at him. Her hair was pink and yellow this week, exaggerated curls frozen in stiff corkscrew spirals about her head.

“I don’t know if you understand how this marriage thing works, but you’re supposed to do everything on my schedule,” she said. “While you’re taking care of the headache, I want to get my nails done. I’m sick of these red claws.” She waggled the long, curled talons, painted as bright a red as the blood they’d draw.

“I’m sorry,” Bob said. “It’s just that my head really hurts.”

“Well, I hope all this takes is medication. You know how I hate to waste money.”

#

In minutes, they were airborne and supersonic, the hovercar leaving the mountain range behind them. He watched through the glass dome as they flew, at the hundreds of mountaintop skyscrapers spiking skyward as far north and south as he could see. The one that housed their apartment was a comparatively small forty-story affair; others were twice that or more. After neutralizing plate tectonics, humans had been able to build anywhere without worry—and mountaintops allowed some of the best views in the world. It was just one more advance that made life better, Bob knew. Just like the advancements in medicine.

Laurie let the autopilot cruise them toward Plexopolis as she jacked the music up way too loud, adding to his misery. Then she talked even louder to be heard over the noise. She prattled on about the latest gossip at work, mostly.

“So Monday, during our flight to our Moon office, Barry Martin actually touched Linda’s thigh,” she said. “And Linda sat there, acting like she didn’t notice, but we all saw. Twenty minutes in that shuttle, and he never moved his hand until we landed. And he kept moving his finger on her leg—just barely, but noticeable. Can you believe that?”
“No,” he said, the obedient, expected answer. His eyes hurt, too, feeling as if they were bulging out of their sockets with every thud of his heart—like twin battering rams were smashing against them, trying to pop them out of his head.

She rambled on about a secretary on the Moon who was screwing the company’s Chief Theological Officer, and the Mars shuttle pilot who was caught with his hand in his pants. The stories were all so exciting to Laurie, but even if Bob’s head wasn’t threatening to explode, he couldn’t have cared less. With his headache, it was all the more deplorable.

“Are you listening to me?” she said.

He really hadn’t been. “I—I’m sorry… this headache is just killing me.”

“You know, besides my sexual needs, I have you around so I can talk about my job and my life and anything else I want to share with someone,” she said, a scornful look on her face that was turning pouty as she crossed her arms and let her lower lip creep out. “You can at least do your job as my husband, you know.”

You can at least give me a break today, he thought. Maybe I haven’t made this clear, you selfish wench, but my head is about to fall off!

Of course, he didn’t say that. “I’m trying, Laurie. I mean, this really hurts.”

Her brow creased and her demeanor softened the tiniest bit. “So this really is a bad headache, huh?”

“I’ve never had one like it.”

“Okay, sweetie,” she said, smiling, reaching out to pat his knee, “it’ll be all better soon. You can get anything at World-Mart, you know. Get anything, fix anything, take care of any problem. That’s why I love the place. World-Mart has almost never disappointed me.”

“Almost?”

“Well, I’ve had a few glitches, but they always make good on it. That’s a company that knows how to treat customers. If I ever lose my job with Solar Projects, maybe I could work for them.” She laughed aloud at her own joke. “You know, I even bought this very hovercar at World-Mart. Cost just a million. Anywhere else would have charged a million-three. Sure, I’ve had a few problems with it, but the antigravs have never failed, and the upkeep hasn’t cost me even close to the three hundred thousand I saved…”

She kept talking, but luckily it was just a few more minutes before the hovercar landed in the parking tower adjacent to the local World-Mart. The store’s footprint was nearly five acres, sporting ten floors of merchandise and services. It was a small one for the retail chain; most were twice that size.

“World-Mart just broke its own record, you know,” Laurie said as she sprang out of the car. “That new store in Manhattan City is the biggest yet. Thirty stories with a ten-acre base. Maybe I’ll check it out next weekend. If your headache is gone and you’re a good husband, maybe you can come along.”

That wasn’t Bob’s idea of a good time. Fleetingly, he wondered if he might get lucky and still have the headache.

Inside, the store was like any other World-Mart: countless departments full of every conceivable thing anyone could want, and ten times that amount of inconceivable things nobody would anyone would ever want. Yet someone always wanted one of those inconceivable things, which is why World-Mart was the global retail leader with over three thousand locations. And there were thousands of shoppers enjoying this location; Bob and Laurie had entered on the Toy Department level, and the place was mobbed by screaming children demanding toys and parents frantically stuffing their carts full. Bob noticed the single floordroid in charge of customer service in the Toy Department, answering myriad questions.

“It’s busier than usual,” Laurie said. “People must be getting an early jump on Arbor Day gifts. Their sale trees aren’t as big as the ones you can buy at stores in South America, but they’re way cheaper.”

The noise was overwhelming. “I have to get down to the Service Level,” he said, holding his hands to the sides of his head...

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *  

World-Mart is a full-service center, all right, and Bob isn't there for medicine. He needs brain surgery to get rid of this headache.

To read the whole story, order Morpheus Tales at www.MorpheusTales.com.
 

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