25 Hour Watch

At noon the next day, Charlie found himself in what was without doubt the most unusual situation in his life, certainly his death. He found himself sitting front stage center in a massive auditorium facing a sea of reporters. Well over one hundred men and woman sat and stood before him, all staring, cameras clicking and flashing and whirring, microphones stretched out at him as if in sacred offering. The truly outrageous part, however, was that he was hooked up to several different medical machines, all glowing and flashing alive but giving readings which read zero. One particularly annoying machine was giving of a steady, uninterrupted squelch of protest, a noise that Charlie, as a fan of medical drama television shows, was well acquainted with. It was the sound which told the doctor’s in the ER “sorry, the guy’s dead, go ahead and break for lunch.”

He was somewhat comforted by the fact that Senator Templeton was standing at a podium just ahead and to the right of him. Mr. Cross was also in view, standing what the theater types would consider “offstage,” within the wings of the stage but out of sight to the audience.

This Dr. Schlitz character was a bit disconcerting, however. Templeton had introduced the two of them only about an hour ago and most of that introduction involved the good doctor attaching leads and wires to Charlie’s head, chest, arms. Dr. Helmut Schlitz was not only a physician but also one of the directors of the region’s largest hospital, County General, and was apparently a man of some great influence. He spoke in a clipped, rolling accent, tall with mousey hair and fishbowl glasses. Charlie had found his bedside manner severely lacking, however, for as he was connecting his patient up to the various machines, the doctor  never once looked at him, even as he answered Charlie’s and Templeton’s questions, and seemed wholly disinterested in his condition.

After Charlie had been wired and before the reporters were allowed to file into the conference room, both Templeton and Cross had reminded the old man that under no circumstance was he to answer any questions directed at him and to allow the Senator and the doctor to address any inquiries. With that, the doors had opened and the reporters began to file in, jockey for seats and set up their equipment as they stared at the odd scene before them. In order to add to the immediate impact of the press conference, Cross had insisted that the press not began given any advance notice as to the subject of this address.

Sensing that it was now time to begin, Templeton lifted a hand to the gathered reporters and their low chatter faded away.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the national press,” he began, “I am Senator Alistair Templeton and I would like to thank you all for coming here today in what is, in my mind, my most important address to the people in my long career. Seated to my left,” and he then gestured towards Charlie looking for all the work like some high school science fair project, “is Mr. Charles M. Marley, a citizen of our great nation and an unfortunate victim of a widespread though quiet shame that blights our country. To better explain Mr. Marley’s situation, I have invited Dr. Helmut Schlitz, director of County General Hospital.. Dr. Schlitz, if you please.”

Templeton stepped back from the podium and Schlitz walked briskly up to take his place.

“Zank you, Zenator Templeton,” he said into the microphone. “Pleaze obzerve ze zubject zeated before uz. Ze zubject iz a zeventy-zeven  year old male of average build with no previouz hiztory of any zeriouz medical izzuez. Pleaze obzerve alzo ze variouz apparatuz ze zubject iz connected to vich read every azpect of ze zubject’z bodily condition. You vill note zat ze zubject producez to heart-beat, no pulze. Hiz brain activity, zeen here, iz nill. Core body temperature iz a conztant fifty-zeven degreez. Pupilz are fixed and dilated. Rezponze to pain ztimuluz iz not obzerved.”

To demonstrate this last point, Schlitz walked over to where Charlie sat and with a good deal of force batted him upside the head with a plastic folder he was carrying.

“Do you mind!” Charlie cried with indignation.

“Did ze zubject feel thiz?” Schlitz asked indifferently.

“Well, no but..”

The doctor turned and walked back to the podium. He lifted the folder into the air.

“And here ve have reportz gathered from variouz phyzicianz, coronerz and other medical expertz ze zubject haz zeen vithin ze pazt three monthz which all agree to ze ztatementz I have juzt made. In zhort, ladiez and gentlemen, all evidence at hand pointz to one zimple concluzion. In my profezzional medical opinion, zere iz no queztion that ze zubject iz nothing zhort of dead!”

The response from the gathered press was immediate. Camera flashes began blazing anew and questions were thrown out in a chaotic tumult. Templeton quickly strode forward and replaced Schlitz at the speaker’s podium, raising both hands and asking for calm. It took a full minute for the Senator to regain control.

“There will be plenty of time for questions, ladies and gentlemen,” he explained once things had calmed, “but for now I would ask for your continued attention. While this revelation is no doubt sensational and newsworthy in and of itself, there is much more to Mr. Marley’s situation.”

And with that, Templeton began his speech. He began with a short prelude of Charlie’s life and then summarized the events of his death. With a sweeping and soaring voice, he detailed the trials Charles had experienced and suffered in a futile effort to get his much sought after death certificate and how the system had failed him at every turn. He extolled the virtues of the great country he himself was so honored to serve and lamented the fact that it could allow such discrimination to be afflicted upon a man such as this. He spoke of duty, he spoke of the heart and soul of man, he spoke of justice that should not be denied to anyone, no, not while he was alive. He spoke to the press core directly, of the loved ones they themselves had ever lost and of the precious memories they had of them and how such memories should never be tarnished. He explained the danger of ignoring this grave situation, of how the ghosts of previous national ignorance and indifference haunt them all still and how together they can all make a difference. After half an hour, Templeton wrapped up his speech, promising that he would put forward legislation that would protect Charlie and those like him and provide them with the basic rights and freedoms and protections that the average living citizen took for granted.

Looking at the crowd, Charlie could tell that the speech had been amazingly effective. Many of the reporters had tears welling in their eyes, many more hung their heads low in obvious shame though he himself could not share in their emotional reaction. Silence had soaked into the room for a few moments before Templeton spoke again.

“I will now field the floor for questions.”

And the questions did come with rapid succession and excited frenzy. Most were directly at the Senator, several to Dr. Schlitz, both answered all with professional grace. Would Mr. Marley be made available for interviews? Yes, in time. When would legislation be presented to the senate? Currently being worked on, two to four weeks. Is there a foundation that the public can contribute to? Yes, established just this morning, here is the website and telephone number. Are there any plans for a book deal regarding the life of Charlie Marley? Not at the moment but such inquires from publishers should be made to Mr. Sebastian Cross, personal assistant to the Senator. Is the Senator considering running for president in the future? The main focus right now is pushing through the legislation but all things are possible. Political Vogue magazine wants to make the Senator their Man of the Year, is he available for an interview? Of course, of course, I’m so honored.

After half an hour, the number of questions began to peter out. The small perpetual grin on Templeton’s face told Charlie that things had gone much better than originally planned. No doubt that these fine news reporters would print and broadcast nothing but sterling comments about this afternoon’s events. It seemed that the full support of the people and the government would be placed squarely behind him and a successful conclusion to this drama was assured.

Until…

“Horace Leeds with the Capital Tattler, Senator Templeton. Just one final question before we wrap up here.”

The Senator’s eyes widened. The Capital Tattler was infamous among those who worked in government. The newspaper, little more than rag in his opinion, was a publication that reported solely on the blunders and scandals of politicians, specializing in wanton character assassination. They based their reports not such much on journalistic integrity and purity as they did on sales.  Their reporters had an uncanny knack of digging up the most lurid and semi-factual facts on their subjects and splashing them on their paper with spectacular headlines and the public ate them. Several prominent legislators had their careers cut short by their publications over the years and Templeton knew that Horace Leeds was the ace “journalist.”

“Yes, Mr. Leeds,” Templeton said simply, not liking the sly grin on the man’s face.

“If I am to understand you correctly, sir, you stated that Mr. Marley here is in fact deceased, yes? Dr. Schlitz here has confirmed that, yes?”

“That is correct,” Templeton responded flatly.

“And you have also stated this whole endeavor you have presented here is being brought forth in large part to obtain Mr. Marley a dead certificate, yes?”

“That is one of many reasons, correct.”

Leeds made a show of scratching his temple as if to scratch away confusion. “Now correct me if I am wrong but isn’t a death certificate of legal document?”

Templeton hesitated before a moment before answering, not likening where this line of questioning was going. “Do you have a point, Horace?”

Leeds smile blossomed. “Only that if Mr. Marley here is deceased and does not have the proper legal documentation to support it, is he not in fact illegally dead?”

The Senator was taken aback. “Um, well… you see…”

“So by the letter of the law,” Leeds continued, now standing, “as it stands currently, you have in your employ a man whose very existence violates the law. An illegally dead man, is that not correct!”

Templeton was speechless, panicked. Cross suddenly burst from the side of the stage.

“There will be no more questions, the press conference is over!”

The press corp exploded. Blinding light pulsed from their midst. New questions were screamed at the retreating Senator, not sympathetic this time but angry and accusing. The turmoil was incredible.

Once Templeton had been led off stage, Cross hurried over to Charlie and hoisted him to his feet. Still attached by wires to the machines, the devices tipped and crashed to the floor in a shower of sparks and smoke. Cross pushed him off to the side of the stage, the shattered machines dragging after them, the bellows of the enraged reporters still ringing in their ears.

How will the public react to this scandal? Will Chalie and the Senator be able to ride this out? Tune in next Sunday for Part Five of Charlie Marley, D.O.A.!