She did the usual doctor things, and took blood and all that medical stuff. I hated doctors, but I felt calm, especially when clutching my cell-phone....It was at the point where I never let that thing more than five feet from me. The doctor said they would send word with the test results. Next was checking in at my new TV station.The stage manager must be a clone from my old one, was my first thought. News was news, but they wanted me to wear a specific wardrobe, a lot of it was from my current. " I knew that, saw him die." The spurting blood replayed in my mind."Your wounds are not so bad. We sewed up you leg after we drew out a jagged piece of metal and put a few stitches in your forehead. There." she said touching my head."I'd like to get up," I said."What's stopping you?" she asked."Modesty," I said, and we both laughed. She called a servant who produced my clothes, cleaner than they had been in some time, with the rents in my shirt and britches neatly mended. I dressed, went. More

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