The Treatment

In the early morning hours of October 15th, 2040, several people gathered at the White House. A group in head-to-toe black and donning matching sunglasses stood around the bed of the President of the United States, Rob DuPlais. The president was lying on his back and extremely ill, his wife, Janice, by his side. The doctor, who was also bedside, looked to the group and shook his head somberly.

"President DuPlais is extremely ill. We have run all possible tests, and it appears he has a rare disorder, hypoaquatic anemia," explained the physician.

"What is that, doctor?" asked First Lady DuPlais.

"Hypoaquatic anemia is a deficiency of red blood cells due to a lack of liquid. In other words, the president's blood is essentially dust, and because of that, his heart is black as coal."

"How much time do I have, doc?" asked the president, weakly.

"Not long. Perhaps a month or two at the most."

"Isn't there something you can do?" asked the first lady.

"No, ma'am. Hypoaquatic anemia is incurable and untreatable."

Two members of the group in black stepped aside and began to converse with one another quietly. One said to the other, "Thank God elections are a mere formality now. This will bide The Council enough time to find a successor for the president."

"But Agent Carson, we can't let the president die. Our country will descend into complete chaos, as his death will cause a vacuum no one could possibly fill."

"Agent Hawksworth, you heard the woman," Carson admonished his fellow agent, referring to the doctor. "The president's got a couple months tops."

"There's got to be a way to fix this problem. I mean, what if Doctor Paulson is lying? She could be secretly trying to overthrow the DuPlais regime. We can't let that happen - there must be a solution. If we need to torture it out of her, so be it."

The agents rejoined the group surrounding the president. Hawksworth asked, "Doctor Paulson, you say there is no cure and no treatment, correct?"

"Correct, ma'am," responded the doctor.

"Are you sure?"