The Practice

“You mean our son, Jerome, has type 1 diabetes? How can that be? It doesn’t run in any of our families. I demand to know how this happened,” Phil yelled at the endocrinologist and his nursing team. 

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Tracy stepped into the batter’s box. She was suitable for a base hit anytime, anywhere, under any circumstance. Nobody could get inside her head. 

The coaches gave the signs for stealing. Each baserunner got ready. The pitch came fast into the box. Tracy swung with precision and excellent timing, and the ball drifted over the fence, and they won by one run.

As Tracy rounded third base, the baseman threw out her leg and tripped Tracy so that she stumped and fell to the ground. The benches cleared. The coach yelled at Tracy,

“Get up! Cross the plate, dammit!”  

Tracy mustered her courage and strength and focused on the base running. Nobody told her that her bone was sticking out of her leg. It was a severe injury, and she shouldn’t have been moving on it at all. 

She crossed the plate and crashed. Her athletic career ended with one selfish coach who knew nothing about baseball. 

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Jeff lived in an apartment building where the elevator needed to be fixed. He had to turn the chains himself or run up the stairs so the elderly neighbours around him could ride the elevator without climbing all the stairs to get to their apartments. 

Jeff, on his way up to help everyone out, tripped on the fabric of the carpeted stairs, fell backward, and tumbled down from the top of the third floor to the bottom floor without stopping. 

With a split head, broken ribs, a blackened eye, and a fat lip, Jeff looked as though he had been severely beaten.

The neighbours created such a stir that the super came, and before Jeff was moved, he had the neighbours take pictures of him, including where he landed and his injuries. Then, an ambulance came for him. And he was whisked away.

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Mrs. Finlay laid out her clothes, believing her time for this world was short. She set the pink outfit and then wavered between a blue one. She had both set out on her floor so that whoever came to find her would know that she liked them both and that they could choose which outfit to put her in. 

Before she could retire, her son unexpectedly took her out of the house. He told them he was taking her to the cottage at the lake, one of her favourite places. She would die there in peace and harmony among the animals, where her love affair with her husband began. 

They never heard from either of them again. The home closed her account, and the rest of her money went back into her bank account associated with the nursing home. 

#

“Is everything ready to go, Isla? There are many out there. I need to sell this. So lie to me if you have to, but tell me when I ask. Now, is everything ready to go, Isla? The three cases we cite. They’re solid, right?”

“Yes, sir. Everything is a go. Just like you imagined it.” She smiled at him and then kissed his cheek. “Knock ‘em dead, Daddy.” 

“Our last trial numbers don’t look that great, sir. But some are doing extremely well. We just need more funding for more data and research.” She put an index finger on her lips. 

“Don’t worry, sir. They’ll believe it. Because you’ll believe it by the end.” He slapped Phil on the back and kept on walking. “I caution you guys. Anything you say after this point can be picked up and overheard. Understand?” He turned and looked at them, made a thumb across his neckline image, and then disappeared into the crowd in front of the curtain.  

“Right. I get it. Thanks,” Phil said. 

Everyone at the event looked like they had seen a ghost when Phil McWainright entered the room. He was rumoured to have been dead for the last two years and had never appeared in public since.

The appearance was monumental since the company came out with its mechanical equivalent to the human body. It imprinted your mind and brain functions onto a keypad-type gadget that the computer prototype had inside each mechanized human body. In essence, these beautiful hunks of fundamental skin-covered mechanics were cheating aging and allowing people to live indefinitely.

Phil stepped to the podium and greeted his guests.

"Good evening; it's nice to look out and see many friends and supporters of such an important project as "The Practice," which we designed to mimic human everything while cheating aging and death. Ponce de León, as many claimed correctly or incorrectly in his search for the Fountain of Youth, a spring that allegedly restores the youth of anyone who drinks or bathes in its waters, ladies and gentlemen, is now a reality."

"If I bring your attention to the screen above my head, and for those in the back, another screen will come down halfway back for you. I'll hand it over to my wingman, Jules."

"Thank you, Phil. Isn't that amazing, folks? You heard it here first. That's right, cheating death and aging. Just think what that will do to the cosmetic industry and procedures women and some men get done often to circumvent aging."

"The breakdown is simple. We have real or fake skin. Consumer choice and they both come with their own benefits and challenges. Then we have the body itself. It is a titanium-made solid core stronger than bone and allows for malleability like muscles, tendons, and ligaments do now for your body. It is a remarkable invention."

Question 1 at Microphone 4: Go ahead, please.

"What did you do to practice making "The Practice? How many prototypes did you have to undergo, and how many were unsuccessful?"

"Well, you can imagine that with something like this, everything had to be scrutinized so that it would be the final product. That meant we had over 100 prototypes. And when I say over 100, I mean less than 400."

The crowd "oohed" and "awed" at the statistical data on that prototype alone.

Question 2 at Microphone 1: Go ahead, please.

"When did you realize that this was a viable project? Were you working on something else when you saw the potential of this project?"

"We were working on the pancreas and insulin regulation and production. Once we made that breakthrough, we continued until we reached this level of our research. And we realized this was an extensive research miracle."

"Yes, if I may interject. The pancreas production of insulin was something I wanted to achieve before I died so my son, my eldest, Jerome, could live without the trappings of blood sugar counting A1C dealings and pesky insulin boosts. It was personally motivated, but by doing so, I stumbled onto the most groundbreaking research in the world."

“If I may call your attention to the cases outlined on your pamphlet, please, that you received when you came in with the prospectus,” Phil said. 

“My son, Jerome, was the first recipient of anything significant from our studies. He had no complications and is doing well. He’s here, somewhere. Oh, Jerome, do you mind standing and waving for everyone, please?” 

“Excuse me, Phil. If you need pamphlets at your table, just raise your hand, and someone will put them in it. Thanks.”  

Tracy was our next recipient. She received an entirely new leg and hip socket replacement. She couldn’t move her leg and hip the same way after the injury she sustained that day in baseball. 

Tracy was a more exciting case because her leg and hip weren’t fully grown yet. We kept developing a new one as she grew each year, whether millimetres or inches; the process was the same. By the time Tracy was twenty-seven, the mould-making was over, and she had her adult leg. We don’t know how long that leg will last, but we are fully invested.

“Tracy, if you don’t mind standing up, please wave; that would be great. Oh, hi. There she is, folks. Thank you, Tracy.”

“But Jeff's was the most fantastic case, next to mine. He had so many broken items in his body and all over the place that it was like trying to work with nothing that went together at all. We started from scratch and kept building until we were sure it fit Jeff’s body and build. And then we attempted our impossible feat. We had no idea what to expect, and neither did Jeff. But we all willingly participated without a guarantee of anything good. Not even great. Just good.” 

The crowd let out a gasp. And then they all began looking around the room for Jeff.

“Jeff, where are you? Give us a wave, please.” 

“Hey, Phil. Thanks for having me. Without you and your corporation and the rebuilding of my body, I would probably be dead by now. I am grateful and encourage anybody to get on board.”

“Yes, thank you, Jeff.” 

“No problem. But, please. Tell them about you and your journey. Won’t you, Phil?”

“I should have medically had a heart attack and a brain aneurysm by now, but I have been transferring my body parts over onto the platform for the past four years, and I am excited to say I am the living and breathing prototype in the flesh.” 

“Lastly, I want to let you know that we will have a guest attendee later this evening. Mrs. Finlay will circulate tables and discuss her experience with you all, or you can find her seated at the table to my right.”

“Before we turn the event over to the dancing, eating, and fun part, please find one or all of us and hear what we have to say. On behalf of everyone at McWainright Corporation, we’d like to thank you for your support and consideration in investing in our company’s research and development to carry on with this highly skilled technical and procedural development called “The Practice.” 

“Thank you, Phil. Ladies and gentlemen, how about that Phil McWainright?

"Okay, folks, here are a few housekeeping-related items. Have fun, eat, and drink responsibly. Should you need a ride home, please contact the concierge, who will gladly make those arrangements for you or find you a room if you haven’t already arranged for one.”