When members of a community are willing to put aside
differences and struggle together to achieve larger goals magic can sometimes
happen. Such was the case when citizens
of a mid sized Midwestern city found their town at the bottom of the list of
least healthy cities in their state.
They decided, in true mid west fashion, to roll up their sleeves, put on
their work boots, and gloves, and apply a healthy dose of middle American
sensibilities to the dilemma.
City council voted almost unanimously to raise the taxes
levied on cigarettes, alcohol and high calorie food, using all of the additional
revenue to fund health and fitness classes at local gyms and city recreation
centers. Signs were erected encouraging
people to commute by bike, or foot whenever possible. Television, newspaper and radio
advertisements extolled the virtues of a balanced diet, and exercise regimen. It was a smashing success. Weight, cholesterol levels and blood pressure
plummeted across town. People were
feeling better, smiling more, and treating each other like family.
The town went from the least healthy in the state to one of
the top ten in the nation. There was a
city wide celebration, and everyone was invited.
It was a boon for almost everybody, except for the Emergency
Medical Personnel who made a living transporting sick people to the local
hospitals. At engine houses across town
the mood was beginning to darken, as talk of layoffs became more immediate and
intense. Of course there were no plans
to lay anyone off, but human nature is a paranoid beast, even in healthy
people. And the mood was turning foul.
On Wednesday, the 7th, ambulance 3-9 was driving
back to Fire House 2 after making a grocery run. Munching on a carrot stick the passenger
talked about going back to technical school and learning to repair electronic
maintenance. All of the new treadmills,
stair climbing machines and stationary bikes were “silly with gizmos, doodads,
and whatnot,” he reasoned. And someone
had to fix them as they wore out, might as well be him, he figured.
The driver did not want to change jobs. He liked being an EMT ,
saving lives was rewarding, and offered enough challenges and unique situations
to make his days interesting. Being a
handy man was not for him.
“Fuck it,” he said, “I’m going to run someone down,” and he
did. Honestly, though, he did not really
run anyone down, he just kind of bumped him with the front. Enough to break a few ribs, and separate a
shoulder, requiring transport to the hospital, and offer a chance to ply their
trade, and it felt good.
An investigation revealed an accident, nothing more. “They happen all the time, all over the
world, to everybody.” A spokesperson for
the city explained.
Word travels fast in the brotherhoods of employment. Civil servants are no different. Soon, Ambulance Technicians across the city
were causing minor accidents. Sometimes
they would run into people with motor vehicles, normally cars they had stolen. Other times they would bump into ladders,
always dressed incognito, and run away as quickly as possible. Business was booming. People were still healthy and the ambulances
and hospitals were hopping, once again.
Soon, though, people started wondering what was at the root
of all of these accidents. It had just started one day, and then it was epidemic, mostly just small things, sprains
and strains, a few broken bones, nothing too serious, but certainly more than
could be explained by “accident.” It
didn’t take long to develop a theory.
People began forming militias, and looking suspiciously at
strangers. Roadblocks and checkpoints
began popping up at the entrances to neighborhoods.
At night, the ambulance drivers would infiltrate parts of
the city and assemble booby traps, so there was always a supply of injured needing
transportation.
One day, the North Side Brigade had had enough. They lay in wait, two blocks from Engine
House 14. And when the paramedics went
on a grocery run, they struck. Thirty
minutes later, the ambulance was sitting on flat tires, graffiti painted on the
sides showing a man riding a skateboard down a highway filled with empty gas
stations. People from the North Side
thought it would be a good idea to express a few green ideas while they were
reclaiming their right to live without injury.
And the EMT ’s were tied to a parking
meter with sign that read “Marinate the pigs.”
Marinate had been crossed out and below it “Baste” had been painted
neatly, and then crossed out. Below that
“Waste” had been scrawled hurriedly.
Soon, ambulances were only traveling with a heavily armed
police escorts. Even then they only
traveled to areas deemed safe. Patrols
were sent out from the police station and the armed populace used every
opportunity to strike first.
It was decided, unanimously to disband the city council and
the military was called in to occupy the city.
Soon, everyone was getting a little rounder about the middle and a
little slower, and in need of more medical attention. Doctors began to make house calls because
everybody was confined to their district.
A trust began to build, a trust based on need and Meals Ready to Eat.
People began playing card games with neighbors and soon
there were smiles, and things returned to normal. With more calories.
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