Who are you?
An excellent question, even when posed to oneself. I swear! I swear I am not mad! I write simply because I cannot speak freely. It is only in this journal that I can record matters related to medicine without fear of cruel censorship. And it is only here, here in this battered journal, that I may examine the truth of my world without worry that I will find myself languishing in a dark, cold cell tomorrow.
Such pleasantries and pleasant thoughts aside...I am Vasra Dermok.
I am a doctor. I am a resident of the Middle Ring, as I have ever been.
I am the daughter of Besre and Hulok Dermok. I am the younger sister of Tarnelu Dermok. In times long past, my ancestors were Water Benders. I know little of them. I know nothing of their arts. I know precious few details concerning their lives. Only stories remain. Distant memories passed on from one generation to another. The memories of my people shattered as their cities fell and burned to ash along with their books. We are not the people we once were. We cannot recall our culture. We cannot perform our ancient customs. And we are much reduced for it. There is no harmony. Not with nature and not with ourselves. Peace, peace eludes us in these bitter times.
Alas! My sorrows will not help. There is but one cure...and that is action!
I beg that no one misunderstand me! Compared to others trapped in this city, my suffering has been but a drop of water cast into a roaring river. I come from a family of modest means, this is true. I grew up in the Middle Ring, in the Rirlaq quarters. It was a neighborhood of artisans, craftsman, and low level bureaucrats who worked for the nobles that resided in the Upper Level. The Republic Security Force were a regular presence. They treated us well enough. We gave little reason for them to respond with violence.
We starved seldom. We had toys. We had several sets of clothing. We lived in our a house, cramped as it was with all four of us. My parents were stern, but kind. They only meant well, even when I angered them. They still only mean well. My parents worked often, my parents worked long hours, keeping a small textile shop that secured our fortunes. As a result, I spent much time with my older brother, Tarnelu. He was always stronger than me. Always faster. Always a bit braver. But he was kind. He taught me so much about life in Ba Sing Se. In those days, he was kind, he was a bright light that shielded me from the darkness of this city.
It has been some time since I have last seen him. He left when I was fourteen. He joined the Republic Security Forces. He did not doubt as I did. He asked few questions. He said he was doing it for us. For all of us. For everyone in Ba Sing Se. And I believed him. I still believe him. But I miss the brother that left us. He was kind. He was so kind! I swear on all that I hold dear! Once, my brother was a kind boy. A happy child, empty of all hatred. He is different now. Colder. More serious. I can see the pain he carries. I can feel it. He will not permit me to treat him. He will not admit that anything is amiss. He will not speak of serious matters with me. He doesn't want me to know. He is afraid I will act. He is afraid I will cure him.
I say for myself, as much for anyone else, I have not given up! I will not. But as to my early years...
As a child, I listened well to my parents. They told me to work hard. They told me to keep my hands busy. They told me to do my duty. They told me to serve the Republic. They told me to ask fewer questions. They told me to cause no more ripples and no more waves in the waters of Ba Sing Se. And they told me to steel my heart to the suffering that surrounded me. All this I did with great love and fealty. However, I could not close my heart to others. They have always said I have been too kind. Too quick to help. Too unthinking when it came to following the whispers afflicted my conscience. I do not deny this. I could not close my heart to others. I would not. Not then, and certainly not now.
Still, I was a gifted student. I loved to read. I borrowed so many books. I hounded my teachers for information. For more lessons, for more stories to memorize. I asked so many questions! Too many questions, many would say. As I grew, my desire to learn more only grew greater. I sought out knowledge. I sought out wise teachers. I attended lectures. I sat for the entrance exam to attend one of the institutes of higher learning.
In time, I acquired a generous patron, his lordship Yaraik Teem. Thanks to his tireless support, I attended the Hou-Ting Academy. Many say it is the finest school in Ba Sing Se. I do not doubt this, although I cannot say that I enjoyed all aspects of life in those storied halls. At the Academy, nestled in the safety and comfort of the Upper Ring, I was trained by the finest medical minds and teachers yet to be found across our ruined lands. I found mentors willing to guide me. I found a great wealth of knowledge. And I found new friends from all the three Rings.
I took to medicine quickly. And I believe medicine took to me as swiftly. I left the university as a fully fledged medical doctor. Many doors were opened to me as a result of my training and my new degree. I found myself with many new friends from the university and on professional terms with those far above my original station. Disease and injury are unfortunately common in our present world. The services of a doctor are always needed. Mortality makes little difference between wealth or status.
Some grow complacent in my position. Some grow fat off of their endless profits. Many swell with pride at their ability. Most relish their status. I have striven for balance. I have attempted to find a better way. I could do nothing else. I treat all that seek out my services. I have no aspirations for acquiring great wealth. I accept what payments my patients can offer. I make no distinctions between the residents of rings. Upper Ring, Middle Ring, Lower Ring, and even the shunned travelers of the Underground, all deserve compassion. All have a right to have their ailments cured and their injuries healed. Be they troubled in matters of the body, the mind, or the spirit. There must be no imposed distinction between these aspects of the patient, for they are all interconnected and affect the health of the patient. At least, that is what I have humbly come to believe.
Forgive me, I ramble, even in my writings I find it hard to limit my words. I am troubled. I am troubled by this world. I am troubled by what it has become. I am troubled by the suffering of the people in Ba Sing Se. I fear for the people yet living beyond the walls of our city. I am full of sorrow, but I must continue, there is work still to be done.
The hour grows, and my time is short. Many things are best left unsaid for now.
I maintain a clinic in the Middle Ring, in the Shoh Kye quarters. I have never bothered to name it, but the people in my neighborhood know where to find it, the signs plastered on the wall say Doctor and Medicine in fading script in my own hand. It is a small building, but I keep it meticulously clean. I would have it no other way. I took over the clinic after the venerable Doctor Gyon Maki retired some years ago. He was a great man and a kindred spirit. I have changed little in the clinic. Funds do not allow it and I do not have the time.
I work primarily from in the clinic. In fact, I sleep in a small room above it. One never knows when a patient will arrive, after all. Often I have the *ahem* great honor, I travel to the Upper Ring to offer my services to some of the residents of the Upper Ring. When time permits it has become my practice to travel to the Lower Ring, to offer my services to those with far fewer means. It is a habit of mine little beloved by my eminent colleagues, but respectfully, their objections do not move me.
The world remains afflicted with innumerable diseases and the scars of deep wounds beyond our own time...
Compassion is the least we can provide.
The essence of our vocation must be to heal the people of these lands and to offer our aid whenever and wherever we can.
What is your opinion on Benders?
Benders.
Bending.
These are two dangerous words to utter in Ba Sing Se today.
Since our youth, all residents of Ba Sing Se have learned of the great ills that benders inflicted upon our world with their bending and how they steeped the lands in suffering. Few groups in our long history have been as vilified as bender. Few heroes are as condemned by our textbooks as those known for their bending. We curse the Avatar and all their ilk or so our official records proudly proclaim.
As a matter of legality, it is of course highly illegal to practice bending. Breaking the laws concerning bending, in any way, is met with swift and merciless punishment, regardless of the nature or severity of the offense.
I confess I have grown weary of this unbending...this unwavering belief. I am a learned woman. I have studied the great tomes of my profession that survived the Great War and the Great Cleanse. I have read the writings of many of the old masters and philosophers...Those books that were permitted and some books that to put it most delicately might simply have been overlooked by the censors in their fervent haste to protect our growing minds.
Between careful words and subtle prose, medical practitioners of the past speak of the power of bending to not just destroy, but to create...and to heal. Accomplished scholar call these case studies fanciful tales created by a primitive, brutish people seduced by the evils of bending. However, I would disagree. I do disagree. I disagree strongly with such words. We have forgotten the spirit. We ignored the mind. We treat only the body. Lost are the lessons of the past heroes. What if we could do more? What if we could do better? What if we could harness the power of chi to heal our patients? Surely, spirit infused water cannot be the end of our research and our medicine? Synergy is but the product of a greater process. SynEn is not our master, no matter what the corporatists tell us, and no matter the violence that they threaten us with. More may yet live beyond these metal walls...and we must seek the truth.
My esteemed colleagues call me a dreamer. They have gently advised me to ask no more questions. They find me rash. They believe me too young. They have warned me of consequences. Trusted friends among them have suggested that I might offend the wrong parties if my words do not soften.
I offer no apology for my actions. I will not be swayed by fear. I will not fall victim to ignoble ignorance. If I err. If I am too forward. If I say what should not be said. It is only because I must. It is only because the people, this city, and this world are dying. I cannot stand by as all suffer. I cannot keep my eyes shut any longer. I will not silence my tongue. Instead, I will listen to my heart.
I offer no apology for simply doing my duty. I am a student of the art and science of medicine. I can only do what I believe to be good. I desire only to see the people healed. I hope only watch as our great city flourishes once again. And I wish only to discover that the lands have been restored.
In these pages, in my own words, I freely admit to these subversive thoughts. I am no bender. I have performed no bending. Jealous rumors have assailed me and ruthless accusations have followed me despite my continued innocence. I have never sought out conflict with my esteemed colleagues, but my conscience will not permit me to spread falsehoods. I am a doctor. I am a healer. I simply collect what knowledge I can discover. I merely use the tools I have been provided. I will not beg forgiveness for my skill at administering spirit water. What crime is it to cure the sick and to mend the broken?
Truth, truth is only an affliction that gives rise to deep wounds in those already enveloped by corruption. The cure for such diseases may be painful to the patient, but is necessary to save the mind, body, and spirit. |
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