Chapter 70: Chapter Sixty-Nine: A Return Visit

Gary remembered this person. Although wearing a mask, the young and steady voice was still impressive, carrying a power that countered fear; anyone who heard it could not help but believe what he said.

A few days after he had gone to the academy seeking help to no avail, this young doctor named Kraft had unexpectedly appeared in person in the Salt Tide District—a place no sane person would come to—visiting house by house and claiming he would help them rebuild two wells to solve the lethargy caused by the toxic water source.

"Hello, if I recall correctly, your name is Gary, is that right?"

The bird-headed man held a rectangular wooden board, with a clamping structure of unknown origin attached to its upper edge to help him secure the paper to it.

It was phrased as a question, but the pen had already quickly written something on the paper; the previous question was merely routine, with a judgment already formed in his mind.

"Ah, yes, that's me. I didn't expect you to remember." Gary closed the door behind him, blocking the view of the cluttered interior.

The Salt Tide District had no custom of inviting visitors inside to sit. It was not due to politeness or any other cultural reason, but simply because the shacks were too small to fit more people, with no extra space to sit.

"If you have time, I'd like to take up a bit of your time to ask a few questions; they might help us deal with this strange illness." Kraft dipped the pen tip into the inkwell held by Lu Xiusi. "It won't involve anything unsuitable to answer."

As always, the sincere statement left Gary with no reason to refuse the request of a doctor who had come to the Salt Tide District to solve problems for free, especially since he himself had nothing to give.

Of course, there are few good people in the world without cause; such people, good as church saints, often have some ulterior motive. However, Gary didn't feel there was anything on his person worth plotting for; with work hours decreasing for a consecutive month, absolutely no extra copper coins could be squeezed out of the people in this area.

"As long as it's something I know." Gary nodded.

Having received permission, Kraft began his investigation according to the questions prepared in advance: "Has the waking time changed since you stopped drinking water from that well?"

The first question stumped Gary; he hesitated for quite a while before giving an uncertain answer: "It seems a little earlier, but I'm not sure. Or maybe there's no change, still at noon."

The pen tip drew a small cross on the paper, followed by a short horizontal line, separated by a slash in the middle—possibly yes, possibly no, requiring further confirmation. After all, there were no accurate timekeeping tools here; patients answered based on subjective feelings, making it hard to be certain.

On the entire sheet, the first item after the densely packed names and numerical codes was mostly ambiguous records, with only a few indicating certainty.

"Sorry, I really... can't be sure." Gary twisted his hands; the fact that he couldn't give a definite answer to the first question made him feel somewhat embarrassed.

"It doesn't matter; just state your true feelings. There is no good or bad in the answers; being unable to determine is also an answer." Kraft indicated it was fine, moving the pen tip to the next section. "Have you had any dreams recently at night?"

"Any kind of dream, for example, dreaming of being in a place very similar to your own home, or dreams where you don't remember the content after waking up, also count."

This question felt like a prerequisite for some priest or metaphysical swindler asking for money; Gary shook his head blankly. He didn't remember having any dreams, only remembering an empty sleep: closing his eyes, then waking up when the sky was bright.

"No, not even once." Speaking of this, Gary inexplicably felt a chill, as if the devil had come in the dead of night to take his soul and returned it the next day.

As he spoke these words, he felt the eyes behind those red lenses cast a special attention upon him; the gaze, condensed into something substantial, stared tightly at him, as if some intangible atmosphere or something similar had descended upon this place.

After receiving the negative answer, that tension vanished. The bird-headed man drew a small horizontal minus sign on the paper, and his tone showed a slight relaxation that he might not have noticed himself.

"That is truly very good."

The bird beak lifted; Gary thought he was smiling but didn't understand why this was "very good," just because there were no dreams?

"No need to worry. Sometimes dreams are omens of something; it's better if nothing happens than to experience inexplicable dreamscapes, isn't it?"

"You are right." Gary didn't understand such roundabout words, merely instinctively agreeing.

"Are there any uncomfortable places on your body recently? Pain, dizziness, coughing, or diarrhea, or the like?"

"Actually, yes; the foot pain problem has flared up again recently, and it hurts more." Speaking of this, Gary felt a bit of fear.

When that pain struck, it felt as if the bones were being gouged out, painful enough to make movement difficult, yet now he had to go out to work for half the time less each day, unable to stay idle and not go out because of this.

He originally wanted to ask, fearing it might be unrelated to the sleeping sickness and anger Kraft. But since the latter brought it up voluntarily, that was all the better.

"Show me your foot." This statement was entirely superfluous; only when Kraft looked down did he see that Gary wasn't wearing shoes at all, the salty black mud of the tidal flats dried into clumps on his calloused, thick feet, making it impossible to distinguish the original skin color.

The joint connecting the thumb and the sole of the foot looked slightly swollen; hindered by the skin color, he couldn't tell if redness or swelling existed, so he squatted down and pressed with his hand.

Seeing the exquisite gloves of some unknown leather, Gary instinctively shrank back his foot.

"Don't move, I'll press here; tell me if it hurts?"

This place is called the first metatarsophalangeal joint; as soon as he pressed, Gary showed a clear expression of pain. Kraft released this spot and pressed all the way up until the ankle also felt pain.

"Joint sand." He said. This is the local alias for gout in Wendeng Port in this world; it is named so because the uric acid finally congeals into gout stones in the joint, and the substance squeezed out after inflammation and ulceration resembles sand grains and small stones. "What have you eaten recently?"

In port cities, this is not uncommon; a diet with large amounts of seafood, combined with a fondness for drinking beer causing increased purines, makes it illogical for uric acid, the metabolic product, not to be high.

This time Gary's recollection time was very short; after a brief thought, he gave an answer: "Bread, some cheap fish, and shells and the like my wife picked up by the seaside."

"Eat less seafood, drink more clear water, and don't drink beer. It's best to change your staple food." Without a specific medicine, one can only act on dietary regulation, which can control it to some extent.

Upon receiving the answer, Gary's face showed little joy; he asked blankly, "Is there no other way?"

"Not for now." Of course there is, just not now, and I don't have it either.

By habit, the somewhat germaphobic Kraft was eager to take off his gloves and throw them into the large yellow trash can. Just as he was about to act, he realized this wasn't a hospital, and the ones on his hands weren't disposable rubber gloves.

He held his right hand in the air, his left hand holding the clipboard and pen, and asked Lu Xiusi for help: "Give me a small piece of linen cloth, please."

After wiping the gloves and throwing the linen cloth into the nearby trash pile, Kraft turned back in front of Gary, about to instruct him on dietary control, but quickly realized this made no sense at all.

In Wendeng Port, some cheap fish and the ubiquitous shellfish belong to the most cost-effective sources of protein and fat for heavy manual laborers at the docks; if one were to find a substitute, or simply rely entirely on large amounts of starchy foods, even black bread, it seemed unrealistic.

"Drink more water; I will come again next time. Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable." Writing the abbreviation for "Joint Sand" on the last blank space, Kraft bid farewell to Gary and, accompanied by Lu Xiusi, walked toward the neighboring shack.

Truly terrible; he hoped all this would end soon, thinking so as he knocked on another door.

This arduous work did not cease until evening, with tightly packed short segments of information filling a small stack of paper.

The two returned to Kraft's new residence to rest temporarily, changed out of the black robes and bird-beak masks, and went to find a place to eat a proper meal to relieve the day's fatigue.

As usual, each received a portion of grilled fish, vegetable soup, and quite good white bread, Kraft's self-declared reasonable dinner: nutritious and with an appropriate portion. He took a sip of soup and said, "We will go check again in a couple of days."

"That's so short; I guess it won't be too obvious, just like today?" Lu Xiusi, who had just stuffed a piece of bread into his mouth, almost spat it out. He wasn't someone like Kraft, who had been through such training for a long time; even though he mostly walked, half a day was very tiring.

Kraft pushed away the soup bowl, recalling the few sheets of paper organized today, feeling no appetite at all. He would have to turn them into color-coded maps upon returning, along with many more requirements he had for himself.

"This is a very important experience, Lu Xiusi. I don't mean trekking through the Salt Tide District on foot all day, but rather organizing a case of a new substance causing mass illness."

The numbers behind those names were codes for each shack in his memory; he tried to map the collected information onto the map in his mind. The distribution was not very even, but nothing could be seen for now.

"We must frequently collect information, use these things to describe the continuous development process, record the outcome, find some universal laws, and summarize countermeasures to prepare for facing such situations in the future."

"In the future?" Lu Xiusi heard the implication. "Do you think there will be many such things in the future, enough to require a dedicated category for organization?"

"Rather, how could you think this matter will end soon?" The boss brought over Lu Xiusi's portion of grilled fish; Kraft stopped the topic. "Anyway, let's just do it this way for now; having something is better than nothing. Do you need me to issue you a salary?"

"Forget it; I think what you said makes sense." Lu Xiusi picked up the grilled fish and took a fierce bite. Since someone was treating him, this was his third serving; paired with vegetable soup to cut the grease, he might be able to eat back all the labor he put in.

He chewed in large mouthfuls and only noticed after eating half that the food in front of Kraft hadn't been touched much. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Sigh, I just remembered some things." Leaning back in the chair, Kraft sighed. "I feel there are some things I cannot cure, or rather, no matter how exquisite the medical skill, it is useless."

"Which one are you talking about?"

"Not a specific one; some are big, some small, but essentially they are much the same. I fully understand that the obstacles within cannot be removed by me alone, yet I still often harbor unrealistic fantasies."

"You sound particularly like those philosophers in the Academy today." Lu Xiusi put down the picked-clean fish bones. "If you're not eating it, have you considered giving it to me?"

"Never mind, let's eat." Kraft also took a bite of the grilled fish; the taste was just right. The day's work began with a gathering and ended with a gathering.