By John Cosper

She was the only one who was not afraid to die.

In my eleven years on the Med Enforcement Squad, I never saw anything like it. Med offenders are dangerous, but highly predictable. The man we executed the night before was a prime example.

It was twenty-one hours when we got a call from the west side. A woman called and reported her neighbor was causing a disturbance. A quick check of the computer told us what sort of patient we should expect. The thirty year old man had a prescription for Med 352, meaning the individual was violent and highly dangerous.

Dangerous, because he had stopped taking his medication.

We were in the vicinity in ten minutes, and the patient’s bloody rampage of assault led us down an easy path. He was bold and fierce when we found him on the roof. "I’m not taking any more of your drugs!!" he screamed. "I won’t give in to your mind control!"

Before we could act, he stabbed one of my men and leapt from the roof to the next. We chased him two blocks across rooftops before the inevitable. He stumbled on a ledge and dropped hard to the alley below. His injury was not life-threatening, but enough to allow us to catch up, and administer justice.

And that’s when he began to beg.

"I’m sorry," he cried. "I never intended to hurt anyone. Please, just let me go. Let me live!"

His words had no effect as I read his final rites. "Patient, you have been found in violation of your prescription, Med 352."

"I don’t want to die," he moaned. "Please."

"By the power vested in me by Med Central, I hereby administer the penalty for breaking prescription as directed by law: death."

"No please," he begged.

They always beg.

One bullet ended his plea.

Such is the way of things in our modern society. Once upon a time, medical science had reached what seemed to be a glass ceiling, treating all forms of physical ailment. Now, science and government have joined forces to eliminate all forms of illness. Not just cancer and viral infection, but pride, anger, lust, ambition, racism, sexism. More than a thousand meds were now available, and every citizen – every patient – had a prescription tailored to their own imperfections.

Of course not everyone agrees with the med system. For every thousand law-abiding patients, there will be one that will try to live without medication.

And that’s where we come in.

In order to ensure that every patient stay on their prescribed med regimen, Med Central decreed that every patient found in violation would be terminated. No exceptions, no second chances. The Med Enforcement Squad was created to carry out this policy. We are the only thing that stands between utopia, and the lawless past.

Violators always felt they knew better. They always learned, too late, that they didn’t.

They always begged for mercy.

Except her.

It was around nineteen-hundred hours when the call came in. Another responsible citizen called in and reported her neighbor’s violation. This time it was an 814, which sent a chill through all of our spines.

Med 814 was prescribed for one anomaly: religious fanaticism.

Religion had long been a danger to humankind. It was the start of more and bloodier wars than any other ailment, and was considered the single greatest threat to our way of life. None of us had ever faced a Med 814 patient, and the mood was extremely tense when we burst through her door.

Screaming and shouting as we entered, we found the woman sitting on her couch, a book in her lap, quietly waiting for us. "I’ve been expecting you," she said, and turned towards the kitchen before my point man knocked her to her knees.

"I mean no harm," she said. "I made tea for you all."

The stoic faces of the men hid the surprise all of us felt. Accepting the tea was simply out of the question. We were here for one reason.

"Patient, you have been found in violation of your prescription, Med 814."

I paused, waiting to hear the please for mercy. But none came. Quietly, gently, I could hear her whispering under her breath. The words were unclear, but I knew she was not speaking to me.

"I said you have been found in violation of your prescription, Med 814!"

She nodded, and continued her chant. My men began to look at each other and me, uncertain what was happening. I decided it best to get this over with quickly.

"By the power vested in me by Med Central, I hereby administer the penalty for breaking prescription as directed by law: death."

Still no plea, no words to me. But at last, I could make out her words.

"Father, forgive them, they know not what they do. Father, forgive them…"

My finger hesitated on the trigger. So I nodded to my lieutenant.

"Forgive them…"

A gunshot ended her life.

No pleas, no begging. She welcomed death with the most beautiful expression of peace on her face.

That should have been the end. Once her body was removed, the team went to work clearing the apartment. It was a procedure unique to 814 patients, to confiscate and burn all their belongings. Such was the danger of this type patient: that something might be left behind to infect another.

Oh how that happened.

It was I who picked her book off the couch, still open to the passage she had been reading. Curiosity led me to ask what words she had been reading, what words gave her the strength to face death. My eye caught it immediately.

"Father forgive them, they know not what they do…"

This time the words came from a man named Jesus as he faced execution. That evening, in the privacy of my home, I opened that infectious book up and read his entire story. Like our leaders, Jesus called himself a physician, come to heal the sick. But his cure was radically different, and his promise of eternal life incredible.

I have no doubt the words of Jesus gave this patient the strength to face death. What I doubt is her prescription. I don’t know whether or not she was truly sick. But I know how contagious the words of Jesus are.

I wonder, when the bullet enters my brain, if I’ll welcome it with the same peace. Some how, I know that I will.

Copyright 2005 by John Cosper