"Thank you so much, doc! We were worried that—" the young father, tears glistening at the edges of his eyes, looked down at his daughter's messy blonde head. "Anyway," he started again while pulling her tightly against his side, "thanks, doc. I really appreciate it."

Leben met his gaze with a kind look, "Don't worry about it Mr. Verschont. I'm just happy I was able to help."

With a final wave, the man and his daughter left and Leben was once again alone in his office. He looked out the window and saw himself reflected back like gossamer against the city skyline. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the imprint of the hourglass in the dark of his mind. He let out a breath of relief. Thank god it was full, he thought. He honestly didn't know if he would've had it in him to let that precious little girl die. She had come in pale as a ghost and wobbly on her feet, yet when she noticed the little bandaid on his finger she asked him if he was alright. There are no hearts of gold except those of children.

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands causing stars to explode in his vision. When he opened his eyes again, he saw his assistant standing in the reflection of his doorway.

"Yes?"

"Your next appointment is here, Dr. Täuschen."

"Thank you, Botin. Send them in."

The assistant nodded and pushed the door open fully and made room for the patient to pass in front of her. It was a young girl, college age if Leben had to guess. She sat down on the examination table. Her legs dangled off the edge, toes barely brushing the floor. He gave her a long look before speaking.

"What brings you in today Miss..." he flicked his eyes towards the file on his interface, "Verurteilt?"

The young girl loosely crossed her arms in front of her, cupping her elbows with her hands.

"I uh..." She bit her upper lip before continuing, "I've been getting these sort of... migraines? I guess would be the best way to describe it... It's in my temples, but sometimes it spreads to my forehead. It completely incapacitates me until it subsides..."

"And how long do they usually last?"

"Few hours. Sometimes more."

"Could be a displaced connection with your neural augmentations," he typed her symptoms into her file. "Have you suffered any head trauma lately? A fall? An accident?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Interesting." He typed this up as well.

"Alright," he stood from his desk and approached the table. "Go ahead and lie back for me. I'm gonna do a quick scan of your systems and see what they tell me, okay? You may experience a slight buzzing in your head, don't be alarmed. That's just your augmentations answering my questions."

"Okay, doctor."

Her voice wavered almost imperceptibly. He could hardly blame her, he never liked medical exams himself. There was just something about the whole environment that sets your bones on edge. The cold, hard table and the bright, white lights...

Her authorization code was already linked to the system the moment she checked in. So when he reached her side, an interface popped up between them. He scanned his own chip and her whole life opened up before him. Nothing jumped out at him at first. The hardware was all good and functioning properly. He removed that layer from the screen. Now he saw it. Something was in the software, something malignant. No wonder she was referred to him; viruses like this are complicated to deal with. Well, complicated for normal doctors. He pulled the Flower Program from his cache and placed it on her file. The whole screen flickered with code for a split-second before blinking closed. Now Leben was simply looking at the young girl on his table. In his right eye, an hourglass flashed. His heart dropped. The sand was at the bottom.

He tried his best to keep the disappointment from his face, though he doubted he was doing a very good job of it. He touched her shoulder gently.

"Alright, go ahead and sit up, Miss Verurteilt."

She did so, though it was clear she was hesitant to ask the question. Leben silently cursed to himself.

"Is anyone here to take you home?" he asked instead.

"No, just me."

"Parents?"

"We don't speak. Falling out, years ago."

He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.

"Miss Verurteilt," he said finally, "I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for you. There's a... a virus in your system and it's already progressed too far. I can give you a prescription for a subroutine that can help combat the migraines. But that's all I can do. I'm sorry."

Yeah, so sorry. A doctor withholding treatment. What a cruel joke. Worse than incompetent, worse than negligent. Killer. Monster. Virus.

"But..." she said, her voice barely a whisper, "but you're the best... you're renowned..."

"That may be... But some things can't be fought... I'm sorry..."

"Is that all you can say? You're sorry?" Her eyes went glassy, "But you're the best. You can fix me."

"Miss, please—"

"Why won't you fix me?"

The girl on his table slipped away, replaced by a petite porcelain doll that was cracked beyond repair. Her little voice box looping and looping like a glitch.

"I wish I was able..."

She stood suddenly, tears brimming in her eyes, "You are able; you have to be! Fix me!"

Leben took a step back, but just as quickly as her outburst bubbled up, it simmered away. She slouched back down on the edge of the table, the tears finally running down her cheeks.

A security guard opened the door.

"I heard a shout. Everything okay in here?" he asked.

"Everything's alright," Leben responded. "But since you're here, would you mind escorting Miss Verurteilt down to the lobby please?"

"No problem." The man's voice was gruff, but it softened when he turned to the young girl, "Come with me, Miss. I'll walk with you."

She gave Leben a pained look, despondent and pleading, but ultimately nodded to the guard. He offered his arm to steady her and she accepted it. Their footsteps were a steady drumbeat getting more and more distant before fading entirely. Leben collapsed at his desk, cradling his head in his hands.

"You alright?" Botin asked gently from the doorway.

"How many doctors did she see before they sent her to me?"

"What?"

"How many?"

Botin tapped away at her tablet for a moment, "Twelve, sir."

"Twelve..." he repeated, the word heavy on his lips.

"Waive her bill," he said after a moment.

"Yes, sir." His assistant had grown familiar with this particular request.

"And pay for her other medical bills as well. All twelve."

Botin's fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before continuing on, "Yes, sir. Anything else?"

"Go ahead and fill out that prescription for her."

"Already done, sir."

"Very well. Thank you, Botin."

"Of course. If there's nothing else?"

Leben waved a hand to dismiss her. She walked out of his office, pulling the door shut behind her.

*********

Leben didn't often do house-calls; it wasn't exactly something that established medical professionals did. He had to make an exception though, APU had specifically asked him to do this as a favor. One of the conglomerate bigwigs who was a major donor to the school had fallen ill. Now that Leben was thinking about it, it suddenly occurred to him that he actually took a handful of classes in the building named after the man: Schummeln Hall.

Now he was on an elevator headed to the upper floors of the Schummeln company building. Apparently the uppermost floors were where the Schummeln family lived. Convenient, living above the company you run. Leben chuckled to himself at the absurdity of it. The lift attendant gave him a sideways glance, but didn't say anything of it. As the elevator slowed down, Leben cleared his throat and put up his professional front.

The doors opened and he walked right into a living room. Opulence. That was the word. He saw plush couches and ornamental crystal vases. The new attendant who was guiding him through the place had to slow down because Leben kept getting distracted by the beautiful objects on display. But there was one item that stopped him in his tracks for a moment: a beautiful painting of a man standing at the apex of a mountain looking down at the other mountaintops jutting out from the clouds below.

"Wow..." he whispered.

The attendant now stood at his side, "Caspar Friedrich. Wanderer above the Sea of Fog."

"It's beautiful."

"Quite."

"Wait a minute," Leben poked his head closer to the piece, "Those are brushstrokes! This is a real painting!"

"It is, sir," the attendant spoke matter-of-factly.

"Bu— How— Everyone does digital recreations now. Where did he find someone to—"

"It is the original, sir."

Leben stood speechless for a moment, resisting the urge to reach out and trace the brushstrokes with his fingers. He didn't fully grasp just how rich this man was until this very moment. Rich and powerful.

"If you're finished, sir?" The attendant asked plainly.

"Yes, yes. I apologize for the holdup. Please continue."

Leben took one last look at the painting before following the man through a door at the end of the hall. A large bedroom opened up before him, equal in splendor. The room was lined with wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling windows, which bathed the whole room in brilliant light. The attendant led him to the bed in the corner of the room where he was then passed off to yet another attendant. Though this final one looked like the head of the bunch. His suit was neatly pressed and, while the rest had bowties, he wore a tie, complete with a very expensive looking tie clip and matching cufflinks. He looked at Leben with a brusque severity in his eyes.

"Doctor, glad you could make the time." He spoke sternly, though not angrily.

"Of course," he responded, quieter than he intended.

"This is Mr. Schummeln." He waved a hand towards the figure lying in the bed.

Mr. Schummeln was a large man with a slight roundness in his face. His hairline was receding and his goatee was beginning to gray. The lines in his face spoke not only of age, but also of experience. This was a man who lived life and fought for what he's earned. There was something about him that reminded Leben of his own father, though they looked nothing alike.

The head attendant spoke once more, "He informed me that you may begin your examination now. There's no need to wait for him to wake. And for your trouble, he is prepared to reward you handsomely. Whether it's money or anything you saw in this building that you liked. You may take your pick."

"Really?" Leben almost choked on the word.

"But only," he spoke slowly, ensuring he was being heard, "if you can cure him. If you can't, then you leave with nothing."

"I will do everything I'm able," Leben assured the man.

As he was about to pull up Mr. Schummeln's files and tap his own chip into the local system, one of the side doors to the bedroom burst open and a girl of about 21 ran into the room toward the bed. Her pastel pink hair was a mess, as though she had just woken up.

"Are you the doctor?" she asked as she reached them.

"Miss Schatzi, please return to your room. The doctor is about to begin his examination." The head attendant spoke gently to her.

She sidestepped him and grabbed Leben's hand, "Please, doctor. Please save my father." Tears filled her eyes, "I can't bear to lose him..."

The head attendant tenderly gripped her shoulders and began to walk her from the room with kind words and encouragement. She looked back at Leben, a question in her eyes.

"I'll do everything I can, Miss," he assured her as the door closed between them.

The room was silent for a moment. Leben was unsure whether or not he should wait for the head attendant to return to proceed with the examination. He glanced to the previous attendant who was now stationed by the door to the hallway, but he offered no insight.

"She's such a good girl, don't you think, doctor?"

"Mr. Schummeln! I apologize; I didn't mean to wake you."

"Ah, that's alright," he said. "Not your fault. My daughter's had a knack for disrupting my life since the day she was born." He chuckled tenderly.

Leben laughed too, "Yeah, I can see that."

"Well doctor, should I just remain like this for the examination?"

"Yes, that's perfectly fine."

"My file's already loaded up for you. You should have access to everything you need from right there beside the bed. I'll be quiet now so you can work."

"Alright, sir. This shouldn't take too long."

Leben pulled up the interface and sorted the files to his preference. The other doctors had been thorough, every millimeter of his augmentations had been accounted for and all connections verified. They recorded the virus's effects and trajectory. They just couldn't combat it. His whole system was shutting down. If left untreated, he'd be dead within the week.

He dragged the Flower Program and dropped it into the file. It began its scan. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered to read the files. Or even sincerely studied medicine to begin with. It didn't matter what the file said or whether or not he understood it. He was a slave to the Flower anyway. He supposed it was because this way he at least felt honest. If he couldn't save everyone, he would at least have the decency to look them in the eye and truly see them.

The hourglass flickered to life in his eye. Empty.

"Damn it..." he mumbled.

"What is it?" Mr. Schummeln asked.

"It's uh... It's pretty serious, sir."

The head attendant returned to the room as Leben uttered these words.

"Well," he started, "serious or no, you will cure him. Or you will not be paid."

"You will be paid, doctor," Mr. Schummeln said flatly. "You just won't be rewarded. I know it's serious... That's why I called for the best. Please, doctor. Do what you can. If not for me, then for my daughter."

Leben chewed his lip. What could he do? He wasn't allowed to use the program. That was the one rule. If the hourglass comes up with the sand at the bottom, then he wasn't allowed to cure them. He hated this feeling. He thought he'd at least grow accustomed to it one day, but it seemed that would never happen. He cursed silently to himself. His hand absently wandered up to his head, scratching at his scalp and pulling at the tips of his hair. Then it came to him.

"Give me one moment, Mr. Schummeln."

He pulled up his own interface and began typing away. The hourglass continued to flash in his right eye, it would remain that way until he closed the program. He maneuvered to his optic network and quickly crafted a macro for the augmentation in his right eye. It was simple and rudimentary, but it would do. He clicked INSTALL. Suddenly, the vision in his right eye flipped upside down and with it, the hourglass. He turned back toward the bed slowly, careful not to let his altered vision make him lose his balance and stumble. Now when he looked back at the file, it looked as though the hourglass was full. He smiled slyly and ran the program. After a moment, the hourglass vanished and he uninstalled the macro, correcting his vision again. He watched as the Flower began devouring the virus bit by bit. It worked. He disconnected from the network and powered down the interface.

"Alright Mr. Schummeln, you should be feeling good as new in a few days. It may take a little while for the program I wrote to fully take effect. In the meantime, I imagine you'll feel pretty tired. It's forcing your systems to work hard, that side effect is to be expected."

"You actually did it? What all those other doctors couldn't do?" Mr. Schummeln looked at him with brightness in his eyes.

"I believe so."

He knew so.

The head attendant spoke, "Well, we'll have to take a few days to verify. Then you may have the reward of your choosing.

"Nonsense, Treu." Mr. Schummeln said. "I believe the doctor. If he says he's cured me, then he has. You can tell just by looking in his eyes."

Treu cleared his throat and placed his hands behind his back as though to say very well.

"What would you like, doctor?" Mr. Schummeln asked.

Leben thought for a moment. He didn't want to appear uncouth by asking too much. Though he did feel he should be rewarded for going around the rules for the man. He went back and forth in his head, losing ground with each rally.

"Honestly Mr. Schummeln," he started, "I'm just happy I was able to help. Whatever you choose to pay me, I'm certain it will be more than generous."

"Come now, son. Surely you can think of something more creative than that. Did you see anything on your way to the bedroom that tickles your fancy?" He spoke jovially now. Though that was hardly surprising, it was as though a great weight had been lifted off his chest.

"Of course, sir. Your collection is exquisite. It's just that I hardly think I'm worthy of owning such fine objects." Leben said meekly.

"Nonsense," Mr. Schummeln waved a hand at him and with the other he gestured to the attendant standing beside the door. "Gier!" He called. "Was the good doctor particularly interested in anything?"

The attendant walked casually but swiftly to the bedside, "He seemed quite enthralled by your painting, sir."

"The Friedrich?"

"The very same."

He eyed Leben with a newfound interest, a wolfish grin on his face. "Good eye, doctor."

"If that's too much, I'll gladly choose another, sir." Leben felt blindsided, struggling to backtrack. "Like I said, I'm perfectly content with whatever price you decide on."

"You may take it."

"Re-really?"

"Of course! The material is... immaterial. You were drawn by that painting just as I was when I first laid eyes on it. I'd be happy for you to have it."

"Thank you, sir. That is just— that is more than I deserve."

Mr. Schummeln laughed his hearty laugh, "Think more highly of yourself, son! You healed me when no one else could; you're a gifted doctor. And as such, you deserve a little luxury. Wouldn't you agree?"

There it was again, that little conflict within him. Why shouldn't he be rewarded for all he does? He's a good man, he helps people. What's wrong with a little something-something every now and then?

"Thank you again, Mr. Schummeln."

"No, thank you, doctor," he said with glistening eyes.

Leben simply bowed his head slightly as a way to dismiss himself, then did the same to Head Attendant Treu. He then followed Gier out of the bedroom and down the hall back toward the elevator. On the way, Gier informed him that The Friedrich requires a delicate touch and careful packing, all of which they would handle themselves. He should expect the painting within the month.

As Leben stood there watching the numbers above the doors swiftly climb upwards, he was suddenly gripped tightly from behind and squeezed gently. He craned his neck in an attempt to see who it was, but all he saw was a blur of pastel pink hair.

"Miss Schatzi!" Gier scolded her slightly. "Please release the doctor. This is very rude."

"Thank you, doctor," she said with a squeak and a sniffle.

He simply touched her hand with his own, "I'm just happy I was able to help, Miss."

She slid something into his hand before letting him go, a small piece of paper folded in half. He kept it concealed instinctually and then turned to face her. Her eyes were rubbed red and her nose dripped slightly. He smiled at her and she reciprocated. Then the elevator dinged and he boarded. Gier wished him well, reminding him again about the timeline of the delivery before the doors shut and he descended to the lobby. He didn't dare check the paper with the elevator attendant there so he slipped it into his pocket. He'd look at it later.

With another ding, the elevator slowed to a stop and opened into the lobby. Leben departed, thanking the attendant. As he approached the glass doors at the entrance, he stopped dead. The car idling at the valet station was Sensenmann's matte black sports car, the passenger door ajar. This couldn't be good. Sensenmann only did this if he had something urgent to talk to him about. Or if Leben was in trouble. Usually it was both. He looked around, but felt dumb for even thinking he could avoid this somehow. He let out the breath he'd been holding and walked through the doors and got in the car. As soon as the door shut, the car peeled out of the roundabout and got on the highway. Sensenmann was sitting in the driver's seat, but the self-drive system was enabled so he sat with his arms crossed in front of him.

"You broke the only rule."

A chill went down Leben's spine. All he could manage to stutter out was, "H—how do you—"

"Because I know everything. I see everything. Quite a loophole you found, Leben, but that's not how it works and you know it."

"What loophole?" Leben challenged, though he couldn't even convince himself of the lie.

Sensenmann simply stared back at him, disappointment in his eyes. He reached over and wrenched Leben's arm toward the center console. The next moment, Leben's network appeared on the car's interface. Sensenmann zipped through the files with one hand while the other locked Leben's hand in place. Leben's heart sank when his mentor made his way to the optic cluster.

"This clever little code you crafted right here." He pointed to the visual inversion macro flashing on the screen. Next to it was a little text box which read: Last Applied 10 min ago.

He didn't know what to say.

"This is serious, child."

"I know, sir! I'm sorry... I just—" am tired of letting people die when I know I can prevent it "They offered me money, you see..."

"Mmh." Sensenmann was silent for a moment, pondering. "So it was greed."

"Yes, sir. Plain and simple."

"I see. I suppose you're only human." He thought for a moment longer. "Can you promise me that this won't happen again?"

"Yes, yes of course."

Sensenmann studied his pupil's face, "Very well."

He released Leben's hand and the interface vanished. With a few swift inputs into the console, Sensenmann changed the car's destination. It veered off the highway just to get back on again, but in the opposite direction this time.

"I'll drop you off back at your office, Leben." He finally turned his gaze from Leben now, watching the other vehicles pass by out the front windshield. "Remember this conversation."

"Yes, sir. I understand."

Leben watched the sun disappear behind some clouds through the passenger window. Funny, he thought, they said clear skies all day.