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are we not good enough? are we not brave enough?
vivian awakening and then we'll see where it goes
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Vivian Angus wants, very badly, to go to her first lecture on Foundations of Cryptography. She's been so excited to get to start cryptography, she sat so patiently through the entirety of the prerequisite Computability and Complexity Theory, and she deserves a little treat after struggling through unfamiliar Arabic phonemes and confusing Russian verb prefixes all morning. Unfortunately, somewhere along the route she takes to walk to lectures, she... realised she couldn't figure out how to do that. 

She knows the way to lectures. She has the route memorised. She could walk it in her sleep! But there's something she's supposed to do and she can't quite figure out why her gut is telling her not to move. 

Vivi's smart. She can picture a map of Boston in her head, top-down, and she knows what the streets are supposed to be labelled; but when she looks at the terrain around her she can't quite get the map in her head to rotate right and match up to the streets she sees. Even so, she ought to be able to walk a road she's walked hundreds of times before, but - there's just something. She can't put her finger on it, and it's beginning to make her angry. She just wants to get to go to Cryptography, damnit, this shouldn't be hard. 

She takes inventory of the world around her; there's a tree, but that doesn't particularly seem relevant to anything. There's cars moving in the road, but they're going a totally different direction to the direction she's going so she can't see how to use those to figure out where she needs to go. The sun is in a direction.... maybe east? Would it be east if it was morning? It ought to be, but it's afternoon, and is the building she's going to supposed to be east of her? She rotates that map in her head again, fruitlessly. 

No, that's not helping. She's clearly stressed, or something, and not quite able to place herself with her usual - something. There's some adjective that normally she'd be able to come up with. 

The space around her has markings. She does know the traffic code, she has her driver's licence even though it's never really relevant; her mom insisted she be able to drive an old-fashioned truck out around the family farm in County Sligo. There are arrows to point directions, but there's a lot of directions and she's pretty sure most of them aren't relevant to her. Some of the arrows on the road will be to tell people in particular lanes that they have to turn left, or they have to go straight on, and she's not driving or in a car. There's no signage for lectures are this way and she's sort of mad at herself for even having the thought, because of course there's no signage for lectures are this way, just lots of green lights and red lights and yellow lights. 

It's so stupid that she's suddenly lost! 

Maybe she can ask for help? Vivi's an extravert! She loves people! People will help. She turns to the person next to her - strange that there's also someone next to her who stopped in the same place she stopped, why would that be? - and tries to explain her emergency, and gets as far as: "I... cryptography. Want go.... go."

...she knows what she means, but it's like she suddenly has a stutter out of nowhere. The words don't want to chain together. Maybe she worked a little too hard on the Russian verbs. Is that any easier? "Uchit'sya... khochu." Nope, now the stranger is giving her a weird look and backing off a step, and Vivi doesn't understand what she did wrong or whether she caused that at all. 

Vivi makes an irritated big gesture with her hands. "Want go!" she insists. Someone reaches out to put an arm in her way. She doesn't know why. 

This isn't working; she should just go to lectures. Furious and uncomprehending, Vivi walks directly into traffic.

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The ambulance shows up within just a couple of minutes; the car that struck her was empty and has stopped in its tracks to shelter her place on the asphalt and account for its failure to brake in time. It also called the ambulance, though so too, redundantly, did a passerby.

Does she appear to have a concussion based on diagnostics such as "shining a light into her eyes" and "asking about whether she is oriented to time place and person"?

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Vivi's eyes are a little dilated with pain, on account of how something really hurts, though she can't quite figure out what hurts or why something would hurt right now. She was just trying to get to lectures! She isn't sure why she's on the ground. She wants to go to Foundations of Cryptography very badly and she is annoyed that she has, for some reason, stopped making any progress on this. And now there are people shining lights in her eyes! She vaguely attempts to bat the annoying light away. 

She is absolutely not oriented to time, place, or person. She blinks slowly at the confusing questions and says, "Want... study, try, angry, cryptography! Confusion! Want no! Go! Where?"

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Okay, they think that's plausibly a concussion. (They arrived a bit too late to catch a report that she was like this before the car hit her.) She's going in the ambulance now. Can she tell them who her emergency contact is? Failing that, has she got useful identifying documents on her - ah, a driver's license, don't see too many of those these days.

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Wait, why do they want her to go in an ambulance? Do they not understand that she's trying to go to her cryptography lecture? She doesn't want to miss the first one of term and then already be needing to do catch-up work before she's even got started, she'll make such a bad first impression. Vivi believes it is unladylike to kick people or punch them, but this will not stop her from vehemently wriggling against anyone attempting to physically move her into an ambulance. She doesn't do a very good job because her ribs keep sending her confusingly massive amounts of pain signal and then she feels weirdly like she can't breathe well. 

She's got a pocket full of annotated grocery receipts, a pocket full of empty Lays potato crisp packets folded into various origami shapes, and a different pocket full of index cards written in a mixture of four alphabets and several homemade cyphers, but they can eventually dig out a student card and driver's licence and a medical info card to identify her as Vivian Angus, a 20-year-old MIT study-abroad student from Ireland with severe allergies to sesame and latex. 

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Good to know about the severe allergies! Wow she really needs to stop squirming like that. Is she at all responsive to instructions to cut that out from human voices if her ribs aren't doing the trick?

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Instructions to cut that out get a frustrated: "Why?" 

Vivi doesn't understand why she can't string words together all of a sudden, but surely it can't be that difficult to communicate what she wants. "I want go," she produces with noticeable effort. "Want... to...." - there's a long pause while she figures out how to glue the parts of an infinitive together, there's too many parts to infinitives - "going."

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"We know you want to go, but you are injured. You got hit by a car. You're badly hurt. You need the emergency room."

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....and what does any of that have to do with the price of tea in China? 

"Why?" 

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"A car hit you." This is clearly not working. "You're hurt. Rest. We're taking care of you."

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A car hit her and therefore cryptography isn't interesting anymore? A car hit her and therefore lectures are cancelled? A car hit her so now people like her more than before and people will want to take care of her? A car hit her and caused time-travel and now it is bedtime? None of those sound right! Maybe a car hit her and that's why she's confused? She totally could have a concussion, and a concussion would be a reason not to go to lectures... but a concussion wouldn't explain why her ribs hurt. Could a car crash explain why her ribs hurt? But she wasn't driving, and besides, hurt ribs won't stop her going to lectures.... 

None of this sounds like good reasons for resting! "No," she insists, "cryptography." 

Perhaps it will help if she gestures! She points in the direction of what she is pretty sure is the way to lectures. 

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"No cryptography today."

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but she waited for months and months...

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She is about to just leave and figure this out on her own when her ribs make a kind of ugly crunching sound that.... seems like it might be connected, somehow, to something she did. It's really unpleasant and being unable to express with words how unpleasant it is makes her want to burst out crying. But she can't quite figure out how to burst out crying so she settles for making a strangled sort of screeching noise and shouting: "Why?" 

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"Vivian," maybe her name will help, it was on her ID, "Vivian, you've got broken ribs. Don't move. You'll hurt yourself worse if you move."

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They also know her name? How do they know her name? Oh no is this a terribly embarrassing situation where she's totally blanking on someone who she should absolutely know?

Why is she suddenly so stupid?

...maybe there's something wrong with her? She's kind of disoriented. 

She is grudgingly willing to attempt not moving, though she still has no idea how that's going to help her make it to lectures on time, or what any of this has to do with cars. Are they going to put her in the ambulance and are they willing to let her direct the ambulance (through gestures and impatient pained grimacing) towards her lecture? 

 

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Oh she's in the ambulance now and it's going wherever it wants which she can't tell if it's her lecture or not from the gurney.

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Well, Vivi is sort of out of plans that don't involve lying on the gurney and making pain noises, and coming up with new plans is surprisingly effortful.

It's kind of fascinating how her ribs hurt, but this just doesn't seem like a very important fact about the world. Vivi is pretty sure that's normally the sort of thing that is really important. And it is mindblowingly awful, just - not in a way that seems very relevant to her life. It's like hearing about a rare deadly disease with horrifying symptoms, but then learning that it's genetic and she can't get it, so she just gets to hateread the Wikipedia articles and text pictures of weird skin lesions to her favourite pre-med friend and then go back to looking at cats. 

So if there is something wrong with her, she reasons, it's probably not her ribs. It's something to do with her being so confused. She can't figure out anything from her day today that seems relevant, but she can go through her standard checklists for when she's having a problem: has she taken her breaks today? Does she need a snack? Is she staying hydrated?

...maybe that one!

Now to communicate it through the stutter she's suddenly, frustratingly, developed out of nowhere as though her day wasn't going badly enough already.

"Apple juice?" she enunciates very clearly. She has a half jug of that left in her fridge, she's pretty sure. 

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"You can ask at the hospital, if they don't need to operate they can get you apple juice."

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"Hospital????"

Will they let her off the gurney please? 

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Absolutely not. "You need a hospital. You're hurt."

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But why does that mean she can't get off the gurney? The hospital will either have apple juice or not have apple juice, regardless of whether she gets off the gurney?

She contemplates briefly how to express this and tries, "Juice yes... Bed no."

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"You need to lie down, because you are hurt."

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"Hurt, yes. Lie down, why?" 

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"...because you're hurt."

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So all hurt people need to lie down now? What about people who are throwing up and need to not get it on themselves? What about people who are on fire and need to put it out? If she's stubbed her toe, does she need to lie down? That's ridiculous nonsense and she is tired of this situation. 

How thoroughly restrained is she and can she go leave through that nice visible door right there and go get her apple juice? 

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They are noooooot going to let her do that and will get her more thoroughly attached to the table when she tries.

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Vivi does not understand why she's being held down by strangers and doesn't understand why she's so disoriented and doesn't understand why everything hurts so badly and doesn't understand why she's suddenly so stupid - she never feels this way, like she doesn't have a plan C or a plan B or even a plan A - she doesn't have a clue what's going on and she hates not being in control - and there are strangers holding her down to a table in a moving vehicle and her ribs hurt and it's awful and she doesn't understand what she's done to offend anyone - she wants to bite something but she can't really move - 

Vivi bursts into ugly, full-body sobs that send pain spiking through her ribs, which only makes her sob a little harder. 

It does not occur to her to ask for pain relief. 

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They will get her something for that once they're at the hospital which will be, after a brief ambulance -> ER cutscene, right abouuuut now. Does she care to express opinions on the available options?

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Why are they offering her pain relief?

She has to figure it out for a few seconds but... oh, right, because she's in pain. Huh. That makes a weird amount of sense, how did it not occur to her?

Once it's been exhaustively explained to her, it isn't so confusing: she got hit by a car, so she's hurt, so she needs pain relief. It makes so much sense once someone says it, so why couldn't she put it together herself? Is she stupid? She still doesn't understand how she got hit by a car. The dots just won't... connect. 

No sense in being grumpy at the nurses, it's not their fault that her brain is moving like a slug through molasses and she's getting mad at herself about it. Even if she's getting really quite mad at herself about it, because she's better than this -

"Uh. Painkiller?" It's easier if she doesn't try to fight the stutter. "Pain, ribs, knee, head, pain."

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Okay, if she isn't going to launch into a story about how she has a family history of opiate addiction or anything else that would let them elicit decision criteria from her they'll pick something and get her set up with that.

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Even if Vi did have a family history of opiate addiction, she wouldn't be in any state to understand how that could be relevant information to deciding what painkillers she should get.

....and now the pain is going away! This is an extremely welcome and unexpected development! She has no idea what caused that to happen, but she's glad you can get hit by a car and then get better, on account of how the world apparently contains people like her who are stupid enough to just not understand how to not get hit by cars....

"Apple juice?" she enquires plaintively of the first nurse who looks like she might be willing to explain to Vivi how she can find her way home so she can look in her fridge and get her drink. 

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They can get her some yup here is a juice box.

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Vivi stares uncomprehendingly at the juice box in her hand, which is not her apple juice from her fridge.

This.... has some relevance to her. The box is here for a reason and it hurts that she doesn't know what it is. She recognises it, she's seen juice boxes before, she just can't hold everything in her head at once and cross the conceptual gulf between her situation (tired, angry, ribs hurt, breathing hard, head hurts, scared, leg hurts, thirsty, upset about missing her lecture, confused, ashamed) and the juice box (made of cardboard, about ninety calories, Mott's brand, contains apple juice, bright yellow and forest green, weighs maybe a bit over a hundred grams, labelled entirely in English...) and it makes her furious at herself.

One thing at a time. Does the bright green colour solve her headache? No. Does the Mott's branding solve her being angry? No, she doesn't feel that strongly about apple juice brands. Does having cardboard solve her being tired? Nope, cardboard doesn't solve tired, she'd need... coffee, or an energy drink or something. Does the bright green colour help with missing cryptography? Wait, no, she already covered the bright green colour. Or - wait - did she? She checked if the green helped with tiredness but not if it helped with being angry. Does the bright green colour solve her being tired? Did she already figure out what would solve her being tired?

She wants to ask for help with solving the mystery of the stupid fucking juice box but she can't use her fucking words right now! 

"How - box -" No, try again. "What -" but she can't figure out how to construct the shape of her question.

"Why?" comes out as a sob of frustration. 

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"...you asked for apple juice. This is apple juice. It's for you."

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...yes but she wanted her apple juice from her fridge because she remembers how that apple juice is connected to the problem of her being thirsty. She bought it to drink when she was thirsty. She does not understand how this juice box is relevant to the problems she is currently experiencing! She does not want cardboard or ninety calories or a picture of a smiling apple!

Vi cannot think of a coherent way to express any of these opinions except angrily throwing the juice box on the floor, which she immediately regrets, because the nurses are being so nice and she is so stupid and she doesn't want to hurt anyone. "Sorry sorry sorry sorry!" 

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The nurse patiently picks up the juice box and sets it aside.

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Vivian does not understand why that makes her so irritated. She stares longingly at the juice box for half a minute, wondering why it's there and how it helps her. 

Okay, so she's.... concussed or drunk or having a mental breakdown or dehydrated or something... right now. Maybe she needs to simplify things all the way down. Why did she want her apple juice in the first place? She's trying to solve... something. Something to do with the confusion. Right, that was it, she's seeing if drinking will help. 

(It is so insanely frustrating to have to figure that out again. Vi hates this. Okay, deep breathing before she tries to talk to the nurse... wow, no, the pain in her ribs means that doesn't help at all. She cries a little.) 

"Dehydrated?" she offers when she's collected her wits enough to communicate without yelling. Nurses know how to solve dehydration. They will help her solve this problem. 

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"Could be, do you want to try the juice?"

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"Yes!!!" 

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Juice box can be punctured on her behalf.

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....oh, she can drink that?

...yes! Of course! She can drink that! How did she not realise - never mind beating herself up, she's thirsty. Vi delightedly gulps down the entire box of apple juice. It's delicious. 

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Great! They're going to see how that sits before they give her any more. Meantime they're going to get underway on managing her various injuries and getting ahold of her emergency contact.

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Vivi continues to not understand why her injuries need managing and why she can't go to Cryptography, but she eventually gives up on protesting. 

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Vivian's mother is in Ireland, so it's later into the evening for her, but she picks up immediately if she's called. "Kathleen Angus speaking, how can I help you?" 

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"This is Laurel McCrae at Boston Medical Center. Are you Vivian Angus's mother?"

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"Oh - my baby - please don't tell me something's happened to her?! I told her not to go to Boston for school - I'll get on the next flight -" 

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"She's stable but she was struck by a car and seems to have hit her head; having you on hand to call the shots and be a familiar face would be great if you can make it over here."

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"Oh Christ Almighty - I'll be on the next flight - can I talk to her? Is she going to be alright? How on Earth did she get hit by a car -" 

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"You'll probably be able to get the camera data from the car company, ma'am, but we're not sure exactly."

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"Well is my baby alright? Can I speak to her? She promised me she'd stay safe in America-" 

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"I can put her on the phone but you should be aware she's very confused right now."

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"What do you mean confused - did she get a concussion - oh no she'll be so upset if it affects her grades - did you give her medications or -" 

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"We think there was some head trauma, yes. She's on -" list of drugs. "But the confusion's all the concussion, we believe."

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"Okay, oh no, my baby - oh no she probably can't tell you, she hates hospital gowns, gosh, she gets so down on herself if she thinks she looks dishevelled - and did she mention she's allergic to latex - and if you don't leave her lights on at night then she won't be able to read and she'll be so miserable - sorry that's probably too much, gosh, yes please can I please speak to her?"

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"We found her medical info card and we're avoiding latex. There's not much to be done about the hospital gowns, unfortunately. She really shouldn't try to read with a concussion. I can hand her the phone in a moment. Vivian? Are you up for talking to your mom?"

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...she loves her mum but why does her mum want to talk to her right now. She is so not up for fielding one million questions about whether she's eating well and whether she's met any cute boys lately (or cute girls, mum! or cute girls!) and whether she wants lamb or pork when she comes home for Christmas (your cooking is always great, mum, I don't mind whatever you make) and whether she's doing well in her "technology and all that" classes.

BIG sigh. 

"Yeah." 

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"Sweetheart are you okay?" 

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Vi has no idea how to answer that question! She is in the hospital but nobody has actually told her whether or not she's okay yet! Maybe she is dying of a new type of space cancer that will turn her toes into hamsters!

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"Vivi? Sweetie??" 

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She knows how to answer that question! "Yes mum!" - oh wow those words came out together on autopilot without her having to figure out how to glue them together, convenient. 

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"They tell me you got hit by a car? You have a concussion? I'm getting on the next flight I can book to Boston, just - how did you get hit by a car? You weren't driving were you? You know how unsafe that is in cities - we talked-" 

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Vi is pretty used to her mum's chatter and usually pretty comfortable cutting her off, but she hasn't the faintest clue how to string together enough words to give her an explanation she will be remotely satisfied with.

She'll settle for answering the questions she knows how to answer. She was not driving! "No!"

(She has no idea how that is remotely relevant to the current situation, but if it'll satisfy her mum...)

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"...no you weren't concussed or no you weren't driving? Are you eating enough? Are they feeding you that awful hospital food - I'll see about bringing you something-" 

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That is way too many questions! She does not know how she feels about her mum attempting to bring food all the way from Ireland!

Vi gives the nurse a plaintive, 'rescue me' sort of look. 

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The nurse is monitoring Vivian's condition but in a way that involves more medical equipment than facial expressions.

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"-and should we call the university to let them know, I know you'll probably have so much catch up work - how is that new subject you were so excited for -" 

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Vivian suspects that even if she weren't concussed she wouldn't quite be able to put together a full truthful sentence that would reassure her mother.

Hopefully if she sort of makes "mhm" noises and doesn't sound too much like she's dead... 

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" - Vi are you listening to me?" 

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"...concussion?" 

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Indeed concussion, good that she seems to have absorbed that. Though the confusion's the main symptom; she doesn't seem to have very many other signs of head trauma.

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"Mhmm... mhm. Mhm!" 

Hmm. Conversations with her mum are always a bit easier if she runs errands and walks and talks, she can call her while she grocery shops and she gets a nice defined endpoint to the conversation - plus she can say easy things about how the price of eggs is too high and she'd like advice for what veggies to put in a stew. Vi will just scooch on out of this uncomfortable bed and attempt to go to the grocery store? Maybe they will have more apple juice there... 

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Nooope nope nope she should not do that and if she cannot be made to understand that they will have to cuff her to the bed.

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She is trying to go to the grocery store when strange people accost her and try to cuff her to a bed.

To a bed. 

Vi completely endorses her decision to start screaming at the top of her lungs and simply not stop screaming. 

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"What's - what on Earth - what are you doing to my child -" 

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The phone is on the floor now! It is an afterthought! They will talk to the person on the other end in a moment thanks! People with this many broken ribs on this many drugs should not go wandering the hospital and Vivian does not seem inclined to listen to verbal instructions on that matter!

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She is booking a flight with one hand while holding the phone with the other and yelling at her husband to call the hospital administration, the owner of the health insurance company, Vivian's usual doctor, the school administration, somebody, she doesn't care if he has to call the President

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He does not know any of those people's numbers but he is willing to help her book a flight. 

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Vivian is pretty willing to kick people and punch people and if necessary bite people who don't let her run away as fast as she can manage on a pretty injured leg. This seems incredibly reasonable to her because strangers are trying to cuff her to a bed.

She's not particularly built for kicking people and, while she's slippery and determined, she can't seem to connect a single blow; she just can't quite figure out how to get her hip into a blow and tuck her elbow in and curl her first in and add all those elements together into a blow that connects with anyone she's aiming for.

So she ends up cuffed to a hospital bed, screaming at the top of her lungs, hoping that at least somebody will rescue her if she can be loud enough. 

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The nurse picks up the phone off the floor. "Ma'am, are you still there?"

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"Why is my daughter screaming?" asks Kathleen in a tone of voice normally reserved for people actively in the process of committing murders. 

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"She tried to get out of bed," sighs the nurse.