Coming of Edge 2: A Rage of Blood to the Head

He didn’t want to go. He was perfectly fine.

The brief “mewling” he mustered up in advance was hardly enough to present a challenge to his father. Or to his mother. Still, they both had very different ways to make him comply and feel insufficient.

His father was walking a few steps ahead, as fast-paced as ever. ‘No bullshit, no shenanigans,’ the boy remembered his father’s favorite line. The man was constantly in a rush, always active, going there, doing this, pushing, never slowing down.

“We are almost there, Frederik. Hurry up, we don’t want to be late.” His father turned his head to check on him. The glance back did not last long.

‘But I want to be late,’ thought the boy and checked his watch. They had 23 minutes left, they would probably just need five.

His thoughts drifted back to earlier, when his father had picked him up at school. It was dumb to begin with, that Frederik had to attend two lessons today - it was even worse that his father did the ‘buddy routine’ with his classmates when picking him up. Worse still, that his dad approached Anna, called her ‘a pretty one’ and winked at her. And then the polished vintage CLK with that roaring combustion engine. Wearing an expensive suit and shiny, new sneakers. The face worn out by too much exposure to sun and alcohol. He was fit, though, for a man in his late fifties.

The drive from school to the doctor’s practice had started with a lecture by his father on how to approach women. All a man needed is a fit body, hygiene and of course the self-confidence ‘to take what a man wants’. His father often said that he wanted his kid to avoid his mistakes. Was it a mistake to be a thirteen-year-old virgin boy?

Frederik almost collided with a door his father held open for him. His dad shook his head.

As Frederik passed him his father sighed, reached out and tousled the boy’s hair. “Daydreaming again, huh? I really wonder where you got that from, maybe your aunt.”

They both entered and walked through a corridor, took the elevator to the second level and proceeded to the group practice. It was an expensive one with high ceilings, a lot of glass, real plants, clean carpets and modern furniture. Even the lighting was nice and warm and friendly. They approached one of the service terminals, raised their wrists to the sensor and signed up via their subdees. A nurse greeted them warmly in passing on their way to the waiting area.

It was a bit crowded, mostly by old people. ‘Old like dad’, the boy thought. He looked at his father, he could only see contempt and annoyance in his expression. “Good morning.” his father partly growled, partly barked. Some people answered or nodded. They found two free seats next to each other.

“I am paying a shitload of money on insurance, for these… people,” the adult whispered, looming, leaning into his son. “That’s why you gotta do sports. Keeps people healthy.” His father did not wait for an answer or reaction. He just reclined, took out his cell and started checking work messages.

Frederik had not been allowed to bring his cell or deck. The common arguments were that ‘We did not have that in our youth either.’ and ‘Kids need to learn to endure boredom.’ He thought it was bullshit, but he was also just a 13-year-old kid with a hulking father. The memory of his friend Viti came up, calling them “old Genix farts”. Frederik had asked his friend back then what it meant, and Viti had just answered that his own father used the term for himself.

His father interrupted his thoughts with a grunt. “This phone is so dumb. Who makes stuff like this?” He wildly pressed the screen of his phone but failed to receive the results he wanted. He sighed. “When we are back home you gotta help me with this.”

The teenager smirked and let his gaze wander through the room, realized there were printed magazines lying around for free reading and started browsing through them. There was one advertising an interview with the new secretary of finance, a man named Runge-Segelhorst. He took it and started browsing through the pages. Not that he had any idea what was going on in that text, but the notion that his father would see Frederik reading about someone his father despised – it had a certain appeal to him. He smiled. Then he read the explanatory paragraph on ‘Modern Money Theory’.

“Frederik Müntzner?” the assistant nurse called out his name. His father answered instead. “Come,” he said to Frederik. They both followed the nurse to a separate room.

“The doctor will be here in a minute. Frederik you can sit on the stretcher.” she said, left and closed the door. His father took a chair and resumed typing on his cell. Frederik also sat and looked around the room. It had a scale, rubber gloves, drawer cabinets, a simple terminal, some other appliances. Outside the window he could see a roof. Pigeons were stubbornly resisting the fine drizzle of rain that had started. In the distance he could see people hurrying between shops at street level. There was a bakery, a hair stylist, an army recruitment office.

“Good morning.” Frederik nearly fell off the stretcher. He turned and saw the doctor strutting into the room.

And she was so gorgeous.

The small and curvy woman had jet-black, shiny hair which cascaded down her shoulders. Her light, olive skin contrasted with her features, a warm smile with full lips and perfectly large teeth. Her welcoming, friendly eyes, emphasized by broad brows and long eyelashes and beaming crow’s feet. She wore a loose, open apron and the scrubs beneath it actually accentuated her curves.

She noticed his father, but walked past him and up to Frederik and reached out her hand.

“Hey, Frederik right? I am Doctor Alizadeh, substituting for Doctor Bergmann. You are here for your J1, right?”

He shook her hand, nodded and stammered a greeting. She spun around, “And you are the father?”

Frederik’s heart was beating hard, he felt heat rising up in his insides, heard rushing in his ears. This woman was so hot and all his feelings of misery were blown away. But then something else happened - he felt a moment of enlightenment, seeing not only the doctor, but also his father with clarity.

His old man had instantly risen from the chair. Had closed the distance to the doctor. Had not only shaken her hand but also touched her upper arm with the other hand while doing it. He smiled his winning, charming smile. He straightened to appear taller. He chortled with an undercurrent of excitement.

In a flash Frederik remembered his cousin’s wedding two years ago. There had been a scene where his father had reacted exactly the same when they were introduced to some female friends of the bride.

There was another time when they had met a female co-worker of his father’s on a vacation. A memory of his parents arguing in the evening popped up, his mother crying, his father’s face glowing red in anger. A glass on the table, remnants of red wine.

There was a pattern, he saw it now. He watched his father hitting on the doctor and Frederik was jealous, so fucking jealous. His insides were burning with hate and disgust.

“Frederik, do you want your father present at the examination?” Dr. Alizadeh had turned to him again, radiating her warm, soothing calm. He shook his head hesitantly and the doctor gently pushed his father out of the room.

“Mr. Müntzner, please take a seat in the waiting area again. Your son will get back to you, when we are finished.”

His father did not like being made to exit the room, nor being brushed off. But he did leave and the doctor made sure the door was closed behind him. Frederik had not realized he had gripped the pads of the stretcher so hard that his fingers hurt, now that he loosened them again.

“Okay Frederik.” She sat down in her chair. “It’s time for your J1 examination. First off, relax. It’s not mandatory, but highly recommended. Also, whatever happens in this room is totally confidential.”

She smiled and pointed to the screen. “Well, except for the bot recording and summarizing this, but we will review together what will be saved in your file, okay? Everything you want to keep in this room, we will keep in this room and if you want to stop, we stop. Yes?” She paused.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Okay, bangs. So, we got a list of stuff we are going to check today – your weight, your height, if everything’s growing into the right direction. It would be nice if you could let me take a professional look at your more intimate parts, but you don’t have to.”

He listened to her deep, melodic voice. Inhaled her fresh, heavy, heady scent. He was mesmerized by her eyes, her dimples when she smiled. His eyes could not stop darting to her bust. He felt feverish and also highly attentive. He wanted to be a fully grown man, just now. He wanted her to really notice him. He wanted her not to. He felt exhilarated and ridiculous.

When she explained she’d examine his genitals, he felt blood rushing exactly there. It felt glorious and was also the most humiliating thing that could happen to him right now.

“You will also have the chance to address anything else. I’ll give you some pointers and if you feel like it, you can tell me a bit about your life.”

Immersed in his cozy, exciting warmth his father came to mind. How they did not get along well. How unloved he felt. A shiver ran through his limbs. The image of his mother came up. What would she think of him now, drooling like this? A freezing wave of shame washed over him, he was such a stupid boy.

“I imagine your father can be quite invasive, huh? Seems like a man who thinks he owns the world.” She had looked towards the door, a hint of disapproval in her voice. When she turned back to him, she was smiling with mischief. “What’s it going to be, Frederik? Weighing first?” She pointed in the direction of the scales. He nodded.

“Okay, can you take your clothes off? Except your underwear, that is not necessary. And then you just get on the scales, the sensors will also check your height.” She turned away, interacting with a screen.

His head started glowing beet-red but he wanted to be brave, for her, for himself. He felt his erect penis brush against his briefs as he undressed. The slightly cool air on his naked skin felt refreshing. He walked over to the scales and stood on it.

“Okay, thaaanks. 50.81 kg at 165.7 cm. That’s perfectly fine.”

He turned around to get back to the stretcher. She was looking at him, her face had become neutral and respectful, even though she must have seen the bulge in his underwear. Oddly, he felt a bit more peaceful than before.

“Would you allow me to take a short look at your genitals?”
He nodded again. She waved him closer.

“Could you be so kind to pull down your shorts just a bit?”

He did, exposing himself. Heart beating hard in his chest.

“Alright, would you mind lifting your penis a little? For a closer look at your testicles.”

He did. His own touch felt nice.

“Do you sometimes feel pain in your genitals? Anything out of the ordinary?”

He wanted to answer and realized that he missed air in his lungs and his mouth was full of saliva. He swallowed and took a breath.

“No.”

“Good. You can pull your shorts back up.”

There was a knock on the door as she was just about to turn to the terminal again. In nearly the same instant the door opened and his father stood there.

“I wanted…” he was saying, then fell silent.

Frederik had no idea how long the moment lasted – time dialed down. For right now his mind and body went numb and he was just watching. Watching the doctor raising from her chair, angry and upset, storming toward his father.

“Get the hell out of here!”

At the same time his father barged into the room, taking up as much space as he could. His face was starting to show red patches, veins pulsing on his neck and temples.

“What are you doing with my son?”

His voice was a slow, threatening, deep growl.

Frederik felt feverish watching them. This was not supposed to happen. Why was this happening?

“This is a professional, regulated examination and a safe space which you just violated! You need to leave right now!”

“This is my son and a substitute doctor does not tell me shit! Are you even one?” A stream of words, a pause, then, “Where do you even come from?”

Frederik saw them screaming at each other. Images of his mother came up. She hits his father in the face, his father chokes her with his broad hands.

The air in the room felt so hot.
He looked down at his chest, blisters were forming on his skin.

“OUT! NOW!” A woman.

He couldn’t breathe.

“FUCK YOU!” A man.

The air inside the four walls turned from gas into plasma. Frederik felt his own fiery aura, flaring out, lashing out. Temperatures exploded into the immeasurable, turning the room into a hellscape of blaze and flame and embers. He saw Dr. Alizadeh’s clothes catching fire, her beautiful hair igniting. Her initial painful noise evaporating like a little droplet on scorching hot stone. He registered a small pang of mourning in his vortex of rage. The flesh on his father’s face charring away, his disbelieving eyes fixed on his son until they were just sockets in a short-lived skull. The sight satisfying and shattering for the boy. Both adults turned to fire, then to coal, and then they just disappeared in brittle particles. Metal of desks and chairs and cabinets and stretcher just melted away. Plastics obediently fueled the furnace even more. It was a room containing a burning star lasting roughly fifteen seconds. Then everything organic had gone forever and everything else had been reduced to slag.

Except for that naked, soot-covered, catatonic, but otherwise perfectly healthy 13-year-old boy at the bottom of a smoldering, misshapen sphere of nothing where a part of an edifice had been just moments before. A teenager, who had not wanted to be here because he had felt just fine.

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