Evan straightened as he adjusted the lines of his dress uniform. The memory of the attack which stole Linc away two months ago haunted his eyes as he scanned the screens mounted along the wood-paneled walls. He had not looked at a screen since the incident. Even the sight of the mobile devices carried by the medical staff in the infirmary drew a sickening lump of dread in his core.

Evan had ignored the therapist’s suspicions until several weeks into the sessions. Technology of any sort caused his mind to go blank and his heart rate to skyrocket. The first time was in the recovery room days after the attack. A nurse clicked on the wall mounted television. His vision went dark. He vaguely remembered jumping from the bed, grabbing a chair and launching it at the screen.

The therapists insisted it was PTSD. They suspected he’d wanted the shards of plastic in order to harm himself. Several sessions later they connected the incident to the television itself and diagnosed him with severe technophobia.

The doctors made it clear Evan needed more specialized care. It was also clear it would be some time before he could return to the field. If he ever could.

The men, most in decorated military dress, and a pair in the white coats and suits Evan had grown accustomed to seeing, seated themselves along the far side of the large, U-shaped table. Evan noted the table served as a fine barrier between himself and the board. His thoughts, however, flipped instantly to the touch screens as each man set his black, handheld device into a dock on the table.

Evan found himself counting breaths as generals and doctors settled into their seats. He hoped he had not been speaking the numbers out loud. As he took in the expressions of the men, reality settled on him. At this point it did not matter if he was talking to himself or not.

“It has been a long time since we have had any casualties in a war.” A general with grey hair and more medals on his breast than the others, slid a weathered hand across his screen before raising his eyes to Evan.

Evan winced as a familiar pain fired through his skull.

“Well, that’s a fine thing to make the history books for?” Linc’s voice groaned in caustic annoyance. “First to cook their carcass in the all new, all tech battlefield.”

“Yes, sir.” Evan nodded, ignoring the din inside his head.

His lips felt drier than they had in the heat of the desert sun that day. He swiped his tongue over them.

“This blame is not on your shoulders, soldier.” Another man, this one with fewer medals and far less hair on his head, offered a soft expression, though his words were level. “This was an oversight.”

The commanding officer cut the man off with a flit of his fingers. “It was outside of our standard strategic plans. This new information is being reviewed for future missions.”

“Translation, they will slide this whole shitstorm under a plush government carpet. Class act all the way.” Linc’s words hissed in Evan’s head.

“Of course, sir.” Evan maintained a stoicism, allowing him to step this far out of his hospital room.

“The EM─electro-magnetic─assault on our communications vehicle was not something our intelligence had made us aware of.” The commanding officer glanced back at his tablet against the glossy black of the table.

“It is not a new technology,” the officer to the right, his shoulder bearing the ropes of a communications squadron, inserted. “But it was something we thought exclusively in use by our allies.”

“The world is still changing as we continue to colonize the Infostrada.” The commanding officer nodded.

“Colonize the Infostrada, geez!” Evan’s head began to ache from the strain of containing Linc’s words. “You would think we were sticking a flag in the damned cyberspace or some shit.”

“What was once considered high technology is now commonplace, and while the methods of fighting a war have allowed both sides to see far less bloodshed, when an otherwise backward group of extremists gets their hands on a new weapon, it is hard to say where they will make first use of it.”

Linc’s voice persisted against Evan’s skull. “Bull shit. They knew all about the crazy faction and all their new toys helping them track our asses. They’re lying, man.”

“I understand, sir.” Sweating palms were a sign Evan had become familiar.

He knew the tremors would start soon. If there were some way to hurry this along, he would have given anything to make it so.

“Sirs, if I may.” Evan breathed through his nostrils, forcing calm over his raw nerves. “Is there anything further required for our report?”

The commanding officer’s eyes narrowed. A look passed between the men at his side. Looking down at the tablet before him, he waved his hand over the screen.

“You are free to go, soldier.” The commanding officer nodded, his eyes still locked on the tablet screen.

Evan saluted as he rose to his feet. He hoped the momentary waver in his posture was not enough for the men to take notice.

“Medical will need to see you again, Lieutenant Gabriel. You will report there as soon as you are able.” The voice was so flat Evan was unable to discern which of the men spoke the words.

Evan took the moment to face the panel of men once more. He offered another curt salute. He wavered yet again before continuing on his way.

Most soldiers only saw Medical for standard appointments anymore, even those could be performed remotely if the right equipment was available on base. Of course, it had been quite a length of time since any soldier had seen a battlefront not locked in the frame of a computer monitor. Drones and field robotic soldiers did the dirty work. Death on the field more often than not was due to suicide, or rare accidents.

Those deaths went all but unnoticed, or unreported. It was all part of the job. No one had seen what destruction war could do in more than a decade. Evan was a new case in the modern battlefield. A study.

Sterile, white walls, the scent of antiseptic alcohol on cold metal, and the raw taste of the wood tongue depressor did nothing to ease Evan’s nerves.

“When did the shaking start?” The examiner rolled her wheeled stool across the white linoleum floor.

She stopped short of the paper-covered bench where Evan perched. Her deep, grey-green eyes flitted over the information on her tablet screen.

Under normal conditions, Evan would not have hesitated to ply the blond nurse for personal information or convince her to join him for dinner or a night on the town.

These were not normal circumstances.

“Oooh. She is a pretty one. No rings on her finger either.” Linc’s voice snickered in Evan’s ear.

“Shouldn’t I be telling the doctor?” Evan avoided the woman’s pale eyes as he leaned away from the digital thermometer she aimed at his mouth.

“You will, but I’m supposed to ask, too. For the record.” She rose from her stool and made certain Evan understood she was in charge at the moment.

“Right.” Evan mumbled around the plastic stick jutting from his mouth.

The nurse removed the digital thermometer and recorded the digital readings into her tablet.

Evan caught a glimpse of the chart. Below his name, a series of notes and numbers filled the screen. One set of letters stood out.

“PTSD.” Linc’s voice tutted the diagnosis. “They are pegging my death with making you nutty.”

        “I’m not emotionally unstable,” Evan assured the pretty young nurse.

“I’m sure the doctor will take it into consideration.” She jotted a few more notes with the stylus and set the tablet on the counter. “Have a nice day, Lieutenant Gabriel.”

“Did you see? She didn’t even bat an eyelash at you. You’re losing your touch, man.” The scorn in Linc’s voice was tempered by a convivial sarcasm.

“Yeah,” was all Evan could muster in response to either party.

The silence surrounded Evan once the examination room door closed behind the nurse, leaving a vacuum of thoughts and rising anxiety. Evan dropped his feet to the floor and crossed to the tablet resting beside the small sink.

“Do you want to see the whole shopping list of medical mumbo jumbo?” Linc’s voice fluttered at the back of Evan’s neck.

Evan reached out, hands shaking, not wholly from the implications of his impending diagnosis.

He tapped the tablet and brought up the information screen. He read.

“Possible physiological side effects of electromagnetic exposure. Possible PTSD. Possible neurological dysfunction.”

“Possible. It’s not positively bad.” Linc’s voice attempted a reassuring tone.

Evan slammed his fist into the cabinet above his head.

He was so engaged in his conversation with Linc, he did not hear another person enter the room.

“Hey, now, that’s government property.” The doctor’s voice shocked Evan out of his anger. “And so are the cabinets. We just had those fitted.”

“Busted,” Linc’s disembodied snicker taunted.

“Sorry, sir.” Evan handed the tablet to the doctor and returned to his seat on the padded bench.

The doctor offered a gentle smile. The loose cut of the man’s greying hair and his relaxed demeanor betrayed his civilian credentials.

“Evan.” His name fell like a sigh as the doctor lowered himself to perch on the wheeled stool.

The man’s years were clearly lined across his brow as he looked over the records displayed on the tablet screen.

“Tell him to get to the point already.” Linc’s voice interrupted the silence of the moment.

“Tell me what the burst did to me.” Evan wiped his palms on the dressing gown. “Then please let me get back out in the field.”

“You wouldn’t go back out there without your partner, would you?” Protest filled Linc’s voice.

“You aren’t going back out there, son.” The doctor’s demeanor shifted to a more stern tone.

“What?” Evan’s brow creased.

“Evan, Lieutenant Gabriel, look.” The doctor raised his attention from the screen to the young soldier seated in front of him. “The official record of your condition will be post-traumatic stress.”

Evan shook his head. “Fine. So? No one has had a case since the early forties. So what?”

“But this is more than PTSD. Something happened to you outside that van. We will be investigating the effects of electromagnetic pulse on the human body. But, until we know more...” The doctor sighed once again and set the tablet aside on the table.

One more sigh and I’m going to get annoyed. Evan was uncertain if the protest was Linc’s or his own.

“Evan, look, I know you military guys are stoic, and you are your work.” The man removed his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his long narrow nose. “If I had the authority, I would begin testing on you right away.” He paused. “If you were open to it, of course.”

Evan put his hands out. “Of course! I’m up for anything. MRIs, CAT scans, whatever it takes. Don’t send me out of this office saying I’m crazy or shell-shocked when I know that’s not the case at all.”

“Guinea pig.” Linc’s voice was accented with a snort.

“I have to.” The doctor replaced his glasses and rose from the stool.

He walked to the door of the examination room and set his hand on the lever of the door. “I truly am sorry, Evan, but this is not my call.”

Evan’s breath caught his protest before he could speak it. The doctor opened the door to leave.

“Get dressed, Mr. Gabriel. You are relieved of duty. Welcome back to civilian life.” The doctor’s closing left no question on how final the decision was. “I’m prescribing some medications, sleeping pills, and something for your anxiety. The Veteran’s Directorate will continue to monitor your physiology in addition to your stress issues.”

“Wow. And he doesn’t even know about the voices.”

Evan did not register the doctor’s exit until the click of the door cracked the silence.

“Well. Shit.” Again, Evan was uncertain where the words derived , or if they broke the silence of the room.

Evan stared down the closed door, willing it to open again. Willing the doctor to return with a sudden change of heart. He stared, then he slammed his fist into the padded examination bench.