KATACLYSM: A Space-Time Comedy by Roy S. Rikman Page B

advantages of having more than sixty universities in and around his home in Boston was that there was no shortage of young, cash strapped computer whizzes to help Amish with his project.  Together with his team, including Kiran and Jaya, at the beginning of the school year, Amish had been able to devise a computer program that successfully hacked into the medical records of all of the major hospitals in the United States.  Five months later, he was one of the most trusted alternative healers in the north east and marble floors were being laid in his home in Palm Beach the following Tuesday.
    “That was a brilliant touch, looking up that woman’s mother’s records,” said Amish stroking Jaya’s hair.  Kiran, who had gotten up to get a soda out of the mini fridge slapped his hand.
    “That was my idea.  And why wouldn’t we look?  It doesn’t cost extra.  Say, do you think the Cohosh will really do her any good?”
    “You have such little faith in placebos,” said Amish.  “The relief of knowing she doesn’t have cancer will do her wonders.  You know, in many ways, we’re better than a hospital.  So, what’s the scoop on Louis Avery.”
    Jaya flung a printout of Louis’s medical records to Amish who scanned the page and committed it to memory.
    “You know, his brother is the chief of internal medicine at MGH.  I think you had better bring out the big guns.  Or at least have some fun with it,” chimed in Kiran as she put on a brown leather jackets while Jaya applied some clear lip gloss.  “It says in the chart that there was some disagreement between the resident and this guy’s brother over whether he just had unstable angina or a heart attack with no ST elevation.”
    As the three were in the doorway, Amish slipped a wad of cash into Kiran’s hand.  He produced a similar roll of bills for Jaya.  As she reached for it, he pulled back and pointed to his cheek.  Lunging for him, she grabbed the money and instead planted a big, smoldering kiss on his lips.
    “Do your thang Amish,” she whispered in his ear before grabbing Kiran’s arm and sneaking down the back staircase.
    “God, I love college girls.”
    The mystic entered the chamber with a sombre expression.  He did not glance at Albert Avery or Eric Silver who were still standing by the wall.  The sight of Louis Avery in shorts and a T-shirt was nothing less than appalling.  As he had done with Jenny O’Brian, the mystic approached his patient and went through his usual ritual examination.  When he was finished he addressed Louis.
    “Louis Avery?”
    “Yes,” said Louis hesitantly.
    “You are forty-three years old.  Your parents’ names are Bill and Veronica.  As a teenager, you were diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder after reporting that numbers in your math textbook were trying to attack you.”
    Louis glanced at his brother and gave a nervous laugh.
    “In fact, you did not suffer from schizoaffective disorder but rather your problems stemmed from mild autism.  Today, am I right in thinking that you wish to discuss your heart?”
    “Yes.”
    “You smoked a package of cigarettes a day for two years from the age of seventeen to nineteen.  You suffer from high blood pressure and high cholesterol.  Your family doctor thinks that your triglycerides are low enough but in fact he is wrong.  Every time you walk two blocks, you feel tightness and pain in your chest.  Six weeks ago, you went to the hospital because the chest pain did not improve after three sprays of nitroglycerin under your tongue.  The resident on call diagnosed you with unstable angina, but his supervisor who is also your brother felt that you had a non-ST elevation myocardial infarction.  While the electrocardiogram showed some indication that there was damage to your heart muscle, the damage was not permanent.  Therefore, the resident was correct and you only suffered from angina which has stabilized on your medication.  As long as you continue to