R1 of RR Debate Tourney: USM vs MiG

*** The pseudo-ever-peppy walk raced by Dr. France, one of the two doctors that had been assigned to Nate's case. Which was perfect for Dr. Hector, because he had a bone to pick with Dr. Sorenson. "Roxanne! " Dr. Hugo France was not to be denied. "Yes? " Dr. Sorenson stopped in her tracks like she had somewhere else to be. "Can we talk? " His voiced was toned so that one would know that the question was not a question, but a furiously barked order. "In the cafeteria. I'm taking a break from cleaning Nathaniel's room. " Dr. France grumbled something like a growl and followed Dr. Sorenson to the cafeteria. She avoided conversation until they had both sat down with their lunch, and even then she tried to steer the conversation away from what Dr. France was interrogating her about. It revolved and morphed, but it came back again and again to one main topic. Nate's nasty death. * Nate was in his room. He was furiously painting, as though he had both inspiration and an axe to grind. His vision was, at this point, almost completely gone and his motor skills were shot. His artwork had gone for a nosedive technically because of those limitations. His inspiration had not suffered, but the look of his recent paintings was no where near the quality of most of his work. But he continued to paint, diligently. Unfortunately, Dr. Sorenson strolled in. She smiled an awkward smile, forgetting that Nate couldn't see the canvas in front of him, let alone a small, sad smile several feet away from him in his periphery. She greeted herself in her usual voice, which isn't good for calling dogs or little children, let alone people with dignity and self-respect. Nate didn't budge from his painting. Dr. Sorenson tried to start a conversation, but it was in vain. Dr. Sorenson hadn't learned her lesson, and she would never learn it. She did what she needed to do for that day, and she was almost out of the room. .. Nate vomited. Dr. Sorenson snapped her head toward her patient. Nate's skin was becoming white as a bleached sheet of paper, and he started to go into seizure. Utterly terrified, Dr. Sorenson ran to the telephone in the room and called for backup. In Nate's universe, everything was going haywire. He lost control of his body, the muscles gaining a life of their own. Lights flashed across his eyes. Pain ripped across his body. The halcyon bird cried in the distance while the little girl wept. Everything became as meaningless as jibberish or a random sequence of numbers and letters generated by a computer. Everything was completely terrifying. All the things ripped across his mind. .. and then. .. Silence. Blackness. Then little, faint circles appeared in Nate's vision. He was going to see the sea soon. Outside Nate's mind, EMTs stared working on restarting Nate's heart. * During the night, three people visited the unconscious body of Nathaniel. One was Dr. Sorenson, ruminating about how she could have done better. The second one was Dr. France, who pondered how one could stop a disease like this. The third was a fellow patient, who shouldn't have been in Nate's room in the first place. He wondered about Nate. *** I apologize for the shortness and crudeness of this round. While outside factors (School, Mafia) have made it hard to respond, I still bear the responsibility of creating a worthwhile story, which I don't think I have accomplished here. I thank MiG again for this opportunity, and I hope that the best debater/author wins.