The Three Dollar Phoenix by Walt Sautter (rooftoppers .txt) 📖

that I know who you are, will you please follow me?” he said with a smile.
Ralph led them towards the far corner of the dining room. The room had all the accouterments of an expensive restaurant, rather than a dining hall. It was complete with linen tablecloths and napkins, chandeliers, over stuffed captain’s chairs and a general air of elegance. Doctor Kelly rose from his chair as they approached.
“Doctor Bickford, this is Doctor Kelly” announced Ralph.
”I’ll send Mildred to take your order immediately” he added as he pulled the chairs back from the table to accommodate Rita and Larry.
Kelly reached over and shook hands with Rita.
“It’s Frank, Frank Kelly” he said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Doctor Bickford.”
“Margaret” she replied cordially.
Kelly was a middle aged, gray haired man, with a long gray mustache. He wore a well tailored, blue pinstripe suit and cowboy boots. He had soft, blue eyes that smiled as he spoke.
“I see you’ve already met our resident alchemist” he said in a soft voice as he glanced towards Larry with a grin.
“Oh, we’re old friends. We go back about twelve hours together” Larry said jokingly and proceeded to explain their encounter at the cafeteria earlier that afternoon.
The conversation was pleasant, but a strain for Rita at times. She continually had to remind herself to be careful not to contradict anything she might have said previously. As the evening wore on however, the task became easier. It began to seem like an impromptu play. She had been in several plays in high school and college. The difference was that this time the dress rehearsal and opening night were one and same.
Kelly had a lively sense of wit and intertwined the discussion of her duties with anecdotes about well known celebrities he had treated at Caramore. He had a talent for tactfully extracting humor from tragic incidents. He directed the alcoholic rehabilitation section. That’s where Rita would be working.
Larry added a measure of charm to the evening as well. Between the two of them, she felt as at home as she possibly could, considering the situation.
Larry walked her back to her apartment that evening. It was becoming obvious that his attention was a bit more then that of a Welcome Waggoner. Rita found him attractive too. His charm was hard to overlook.
“Too bad things aren’t different” she thought as she prepared herself for bed.
As she laid down that night, her mind moved from the pleasantries of the evening, to thoughts of Ed, the clinic and the purpose of her presence at Caramore.

Chapter VII

The next morning, Rita arrived at Building A-5, shortly after breakfast. She met Doctor Kelly and began her assignment. She was to collect routine daily physical data on patients residing on the first and second floor. She spent much of the morning getting to know her new patients. Kelly provided a brief introduction to each as they visited the rooms. As they walked, he described the use of the Scantron Sheets with which he was working.
“We code all data such as BP, heart rate, temperature and the like on the sheets which are then forwarded to the central computer for compiling and integration with existing data on the patient. Within minutes after the round we are provided with a summary printout on the condition and problem areas for each. With this information, we can then return to those individuals who are experiencing difficulties and prescribe additional testing or treatment as necessary” he explained.
The system and the equipment were the finest. No technological advance was left unused.
Rita couldn’t help but compare it to the prehistoric conditions, in which she had worked in Newark. Working at Caramore was a quantum leap from that. There a thermometer, with digital read out was the major equipment purchase of the entire three years the clinic was open.
She completed the rounds with Kelly. He would continue to accompany her for the next several days, until she became completely familiar with the operation. Although, many of the techniques were new to her, medicine is still the prerogative of the physician, and Rita felt comfortable in the wealth of her medical knowledge. Much of what she saw that morning was familiar to her, in spite of her lack of hands on experience. She never was one to let a copy of The New England Journal of Medicine or the Journal of the American Medical Association, slip by her without reading it cover to cover.
At lunch that afternoon, Kelly introduced her to Jack Robbins, the director of the computer service at Caramore. She would be with Jack for the remainder of the day. The following afternoon would be devoted to laboratory procedures at the clinic, and finally the third day would include the pharmacy with Larry. As Kelly explained, “This scheduling is used with all new medical personnel at Caramore. It allows them to become acquainted with the total operation of the hospital and the people and services vital to its functioning.”
Computer services centered in Building A-4. A large basement room housed a mainframe unit, fed by the terminals throughout the complex. Four men, wearing white lab coats, scurried about carrying stacks of print out sheets and tape reels. Jack stood by his desk which was piled high with assorted sheets of paper. He was busily sifting through several of them as she entered his office.
“God damn program’s not running right again” he said as he looked up from behind a dense cloud of pipe smoke.
“Please close the door. The machine doesn’t like smoke. It’s got no vices, except for screwin’ me up” he mumbled.
She closed the door which separated this small glass enclosed office from the main computer room.
“Please sit down. I’ll be with you in one second” he said and belched out another smoke cloud.
She sat silently while he continued to scrutinize the papers he held. In a few minutes, he put them down, walked over to a nearby terminal and turned it on.
“Let me show you how this works” he said as he motioned her over towards the screen.
“First of all, in order to get into the data bank, you’ll need a password” he began.
“It changes each day, your supervisor will tell you your word for the day when you meet with him in the morning. Everybody has his own word for the day. It will probably be a nonsense word like LZYX or KIJU. It will always be four letters. The machine’s a pervert, it only uses four letter words” he said with a sheepish grin.
“Sometimes the words get pretty raunchy. They’re generated by the computer each day as a random series of letters, so anything’s possible. One department has a pool to see who’s the first to get a particular word, usually an obscenity. Everybody throws in ten bucks a week and the winner takes the pot. Last time they told me the prize was up around three hundred dollars before somebody finally won.”
“Your word allows you to enter the files for your patients only. It records any unauthorized attempts to enter any files, other than yours. You should never disclose your password to anyone until the end of your shift, at which time your word becomes invalid and the computer will not accept it. The machine will not divulge your password under any circumstances, not even to me. The only record you will have will be the print out given to you by your supervisor each morning, in a sealed envelope. To input your word, first press the control X key, then type your word. This way it never appears on the monitor and no one can ever see it” he said as he demonstrated on the keyboard.
“All print out material must be accounted for each day and turned into your supervisor. The computer notes any print commands, so everything can be collected and none ever get out. There are no photocopy machines in the building and no records are permitted to leave the premises in written or printed form. Are you with me so far?” he asked. Rita hesitated for a minute. The security precautions where amazing. It was making a James Bond plot look almost childlike.
“Yes” she replied feebly.
“All this may look silly to you, but we are constantly being tested by professional investigators and reporters trying to get stories about famous people for some shoddy magazine or newspaper” he said with a scowl. He paused for a second.
“People come here for help, not harassment. They insist on the strictest of privacy for their personal lives. They’re willing to pay for that and we do everything that can be done to give it to them” he said sternly.
“Once you’ve entered your correct password, the machine will greet you personally. That’s your signal that you’re logged on. Watch this.”
He typed a series of letters, pressed the return key and the monitor responded with “Good afternoon, Jack Robbins - what may I do for you today?.”
“See, now we’re ready to access a file” said Jack enthusiastically.
“None of the patients, here at Caramore are identified by name. The reasons for that are obvious. Instead, each is assigned a number. The number is based on the room and building occupied by that particular patient. For example, you’ll be working in building A-5 on the first and second floor. If you wanted the records for the individual in room 100 in your building, you would type in A0015. Notice the building letter is inputted first, followed by the room number in reverse sequence and finally the building number. Let me show you.”
Jack typed the number as he had described it in his explanation.
“Access denied” flashed on the monitor screen.
“Ah, you see., the computer will not accept commands for data which is not authorize My password doesn’t allow me to access data for your patients.” he said with a sense of pride.
“Now, let’s try it with your word.”
“I don’t know my word” Rita.
“Of course you don’t but I do, so I can demonstrate the system to you. Doctor Kelly gave it to me at lunch, so I could show you how to use it.”
He reached into his pocket, and pulled out an envelope, which he proceeded to tear open.
In it, was a small slip of paper. On it was printed TYIW. He handed it to her.
“Here, try this.” Rita typed the word into the terminal.
“Good afternoon, Margaret Bickford. What may I do for you today?” it read.
“Now type in a request for the patient in room 100” prompted Robbins.
Rita obediently entered A0015 and immediately there appeared a complete history. All medical data, past and present was displayed for Mrs. Goodwin, patient number Al0015C13.
“I thought you said no names were ever used?” said Rita.
“That’s true. No real names are ever used” replied Robbins.
“These names are pseudonyms. The computer arbitrarily assigns a name like Smith or Jones or something to each patient. Some people object to addressing individuals by numbers, even on records and so this is a way to make them feel more at ease. Some of the names are given by the patients themselves if they want to use a particular alias.”
“What’s this additional code, C13?” asked Rita.
“That represents the number of the current patient in that room as opposed to other patients who have occupied the same room previously. The computer automatically calls the number of