Title Page

Copyright

The Dispatcher Copyright © 2016 by John Scalzi.

Dust jacket and interior illustrations Copyright © 2017

Print version interior design Copyright © 2017

Electronic Edition

ISBN

978-1-59606-787-5

Subterranean Press

PO Box 190106

Burton, MI 48519

subterraneanpress.com

Chapter One

I take it as a given that no one really likes to see me in my official capacity. But Dr. Chao seemed more annoyed than most when I showed up for the open heart surgery she was performing.

“Tell me that’s not the person I think it is,” Chao said, to Sheila Reeves. Reeves, a hospital administrator, had accompanied me into the scrub room. Chao was scrubbing up and after the initial glance refused to look at me. Several other members of the operating team were in the scrub room as well, prepping for the operation; they seemed happy to be thinking about other business.

“Helen,” Reeves began.

“You know my policy on non-essential personnel in my operating room.”

“He’s technically not non-essential.”

“Yeah?” Chao said, and then addressed me, without looking my way. “You. What’s your name?”

“Tony Valdez.”

“And you’re a doctor, right? A specialist in heart surgery.”

“No.”

“An anesthesiologist, then.”

“I’m not a doctor of any sort.”

“Then you’re a nurse. A surgical nurse.”

“No. I’m not a nurse either.”

“So, not a doctor, not a nurse.” Chao pressed a dispenser with her elbow to get more soap on her hands. “Seems like he has no reason to be in my operating room, Sheila.”

“You know that’s not how it works, Helen.”

“It’s my operating room. It is how it works.”

“The insurance company insists on it. If he’s not in the operating room, they won’t pay.”

Chao glowered quietly for several seconds. I stood, also quiet. Years of practice told me the best thing to do in moments like these is not to speak unless spoken to.

Which I was, a second later. “Where’s Jimmy Albert?” asked another woman, to me. She was hovering over Chao, which made me assume she was a nurse or assistant of some sort. “Jimmy’s usually the one of you who works this hospital.”

“He was called away on a personal emergency,” I said. “Or that’s what he told me. I was on call this weekend so this got handed to me.”

“You’ve worked hospitals and operations before,” Reeves prompted me.

“Of course. A dozen hospitals at least and hundreds of operations. It’s our primary job responsibility at this point.”

“And how many people have you killed, doing your ‘job’?” Chao asked me. I could hear the quotation marks around the word ‘job’ in her voice.