Chapter II

CHAPTER II
June 12, 2003
Columbia University, New York City


Dr. Judas Sturgis uncomfortably stirred in his seat. The tightly cramped arrangements were beginning to gnaw at his minimal supply of patience. Judas waited impatiently for his mentor, the esteemed Dr. Quentin Forsythe to approach the stage. The annual Doctors Without Borders fund-raiser which had poured money into its newest endeavor, P.A.L.S., had successfully brought together an electric group of people year after year. Citizens from all across the country with various views and opinions, came to share their thoughts, and raise money to help protect those areas in the world where help was needed the most. Dr. Quentin Forsythe was the leading man behind this program. Not only did he head the esteemed global program, but he also spent numerous years leap frogging across the globe aiding in the medical relief of those certain impoverished countries. His rebellious career had spanned nearly four decades, and at fifty-eight years old, he was priming himself for one last trip. Next on Quentin’s agenda was the small colony of Natas, Africa. Natas quickly became classified as a maximum poverty society. A single dollar a day was the current statistic of survival. If a family lived on a dollar, it was considered lucky, if not a miracle. The basic shelter, shoes and maybe one article of clothing the most they accrued. If that wasn’t enough, Natas was the breeding ground for many infectious, if not deadly diseases, due to insufficient health care, dirty sanitation, and minimal education in protection against such radical diseases.
Dr. Judas Sturgis glared ahead at the towering, enormous blue screen that hung from the ceiling’s rafters right behind the speakers’ podium. The screen displayed in giant white letters, tonight’s guest.
“Dr. Quentin Forsythe, Founder of Doctors Without Borders,” Judas mumbled to himself.
Judas’ anger was starting to become evident as the long wait for this event had stretched over the better part of a year. He had studied under Forsythe many years ago at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital, and he wanted to see the legendary doctor at the speaking engagement tonight. Judas had to book this prestigious reservation last year when he read about it in the medical journals.
The massive auditorium was filled to the brim with students, philanthropists; curious citizens peaked by the topic, and fellow doctors. Everybody was dressed to impress. The classy men wore synchronized black and white tuxedos. A light cherry red cummerbund had completed the matching ensemble. Meanwhile, the ladies opted for the long flowing white gowns that cut right below the cleavage line, and finished it off with an array of expensive silver or golden jewelry.
Fidgeting again in his seat, the thirty-five-year-old Judas Sturgis edgily checked his golden white Rolex watch. The numbers had indicated it was indeed eight o‘clock on the nose. Forsythe was scheduled for seven thirty, right after the dinner buffet and nightly entertainment. Before Judas could run another one of his fingers through his jet black hair, the lights dimmed and silence overcame the eager crowd.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the announcer bellowed. “Doctors Without Borders, in association with P.A.L.S. wants to welcome you to our 41st annual convention, with our founder, the legendary, the fantastic, Dr. Quentin Forsythe!” The announcer built up his voice until the very end, leading the audience into a thunderous applause of appreciation for Quentin Forsythe’s entrance.
The lights flicked back on, and there he was standing with brimming confidence behind the black podium. Snapping the microphone into position, Quentin Forsythe began his prepared speech.
“Good evening ladies and gentleman, my name‘s Dr. Quentin Forsythe,” the husky voiced doctor formally introduced himself. “Thank you for coming, and even more importantly thanks for all of your donations.” His wry remark tugged at Judas’ deepening dislike for his mentor.
A shower of applause again erupted throughout the speech.
“Anytime now,” Judas mumbled with a quiet resonance.
“We are gathered here tonight for one reason and one reason only,” Forsythe said as he turned to face the blue screen behind him. “I’m here to announce that my latest crusade will take me into the belly of South Africa.” The pictures popped up onto the screen.
Forsythe clutched the small hand-held clicker for the projector’s slide show inside his left hand. His left thumb calmly rested on top of the small red button. This was the state-of-art power point presentation that all the doctors had previously learned at a convention in Ottawa back in March.
“What you will see here tonight will shock you, devastate you, and inform you.” He clicked the first slide onto the giant screen. “This place is called Natas, and yes for the quick witted, it does spell Satan backwards.”
A quiet laugh strolled through the audience. But not Judas, he wasn’t laughing. This was no laughing matter.
“I’m not here telling jokes,” Forsythe started to become frustrated with the lack of maturity encased within the crowd.
“This place should be called Satan, for all the poverty, disease, and hell that these poor innocent souls are exposed to day in and day out.” Another flick of his thumb sent a picture of a malnourished eight-year-old boy across the screen. “This boy’s bones continually stick through his skin. And, to make matters even worse, this chap’s eyes have depressed into his head, the lips are dried and bloody, and his chance for survival is a meager 2 percent.”
Silence had befallen the once vocal crowd. The horrendous images became galvanized in their optical nerves.
“I don’t fully understand why the United States doesn’t get sufficient funds into these countries.” Forsythe continued along in his volcanic speech. “This picture here,” he said pointing to the stack of dead decomposed bodies outside town. “This picture here, shows you how terrible this conflict truly is. These people are dying by the day. In fact, after my calculations, ninety die every month, twenty a week, or to break it down further, three people die every day,” Forsythe seethed at these numbers. “We need to launch a program where a series of qualified volunteers will travel to these depressed areas and help fortify a health plan that works, and continues to work over time.” Forsythe continually dabbed his forehead with the back of his hand. “Listen. I’ll be honest with you. No political bullshit. There’s a simplified plan to resurrect these regions. Will it happen tomorrow? Not a chance. However, if we all act now, by the year 2025, we can eliminate poverty and disease in most if not all these areas. How do you say this is even possible?” Forsythe finished his thought with a question directed at the audience. “Well, let me ask you the audience.” Forsythe scanned the crowd. “The gorgeous lady down in the front row with her arms crossed.” Quentin observed the crowed. “Miss, what’s your name?”
“My name is Katy Madison,” The young woman said as she stood up. The bright spotlight shifted instantly to her. The twenty-eight-year-old medical professional offered her take on what might be a possible solution exercise. Her short brown hair highlighted her hazel eyes. Katy had a fair complexion. Her athletic build seemed very daunting to the sexist collection of men that gathered around the room. She was also very intelligent. Katy was the supreme consummate professional.
“And do you have an inkling of what it might take to reestablish these impoverished sections?” Forsythe looked down upon the eager woman.
“I would bring in qualified doctors and educators to solidify a plan to educate these regions. Statistics say there’s only one doctor for every five thousand people. How can they get proper treatment with that kind of disparity?” Katy offered her opinion.
“Excellent,” Forsythe winked at Katy. “Miss Madison has come up with a solid start to our plan. Can anyone follow her lead?”
“I can certainly try my hand at this,” Judas said as he also rose to share the spotlight. Judas was one to hog the spotlight, not share it.
“In what way, Dr. Sturgis.” Forsythe squinted at him. “Wait a minute. I know you.” He shook his finger as if he suddenly remembered the man’s face.
Judas was surprised Forsythe had in fact remembered him. It had been roughly ten years since the two were paired together, Forsythe as the resident doctor, and Judas as the resident. “You do?”
“I never forget a face, or such an invaluable talent.” Forsythe said with a professional courtesy. “We met at Columbian Presbyterian Hospital. I think it was back in 1993.”
“Yes it was. I’m impressed,” Judas, said with a glowing ego.
“I’m grateful to have you here tonight, Mr. Sturgis,” Forsythe added. “Please share your thoughts with the crowd.”
“Well, picking up on what Miss Madison inferred to, I think that if a proper sanitation and water treatment program were implemented, that would help eliminate many of their diseases. This program would not only be inexpensive, but foolproof.”
“What another excellent idea!” Forsythe beamed with delight. He was always happy to see such vibrant minds in the audience. Forsythe also had written about these points in his latest best-seller.
Judas sat back down, extremely satisfied with the way the night had gone so far.
“I’d just like to take up a few more moments of your time before we adjourn.” Forsythe showed a few more shocking pictures before he segued into his closing speech. “So what have we learned here tonight? Well, I can tell you that such areas need people like you to continue your precious donations, invaluable time and endless effort. As for experienced folk such as Miss Madison and Mr. Sturgis, their knowledge and drive are always a welcome addition and important factor in turning this tide against poverty.” Thunderous applause again showered the speaker.
“The dining hall has some lingering entertainment, dessert, and I’ll will be there signing my new book, where all proceeds directly go to our cause.” Dr. Forsythe wrapped up the night and headed off stage, mingling with the scattering crowd of people.
Quentin Forsythe had quietly settled himself into a hard plastic chair behind one of the banquet tables set up for his book signing engagement. His masculine hands frenetically signed copy after copy of his New York Times best-selling novel, Living in Poverty. After a furious fifteen minutes, Judas Sturgis made his way up to the tiring humanitarian.
“Dr. Forsythe?” Judas acknowledged him.
“Judas, my son, how have you been?” Quentin looked up from signing the book. His glimmering blue eyes met with Dr. Sturgis’s baby browns.
“I’ve learned a great deal from you.” Judas glanced down at Quentin. “Ever since we met back in 1993 when you took me under your wing as your protégée.”
“I’ve always enjoyed our time together. Your mind always displayed a keen knack for medicine.” Forsythe clasped the book shut and handed it back to Judas. “Will you be joining our cause in Natas?”
“I am on the rotating schedule,” Judas affirmed him. “I personally can’t wait for the opportunity to work with you again.” He lied through his teeth. Judas was always able to pull off bullshitting another during any conversation, and come out smelling like a dozen red roses.
“Well, the chances of us working alongside one another is quite slim,” Forsythe said with a dejected look.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll be spending only a short period of time in Natas, before I return back to the States for another circuit of seminars.”
“Oh I see, well then, whatever I can do to help this region recover from poverty.”
“That’s the spirit!” Forsythe beamed. His body shifted in the seat, ready for the next person. “Judas, it’s been my pleasure, best of luck in whatever you do.” The two men exchanged handshakes and then parted ways.
“And who exactly do I make this book out to?” Forsythe felt the book between his fingers without looking up at the next person.
“Katy Madison, Sir,” her soft voice echoed in Forsythe’s ears.
“Ah, the young brilliant mind from earlier tonight.”
“I suppose so Dr. Forsythe.” Katy glowed with embarrassment.
“You know, I think you should talk with that gentleman over there.” Forsythe pointed out Judas standing across the room by the punch bowl.
“How’s that?” Katy curiously asked.
“Well, I taught him everything he knows, and he’s a handsome chap. In addition, I think the two of you would play off each other with fantastic results.”
“Eh, I don’t know,” Katy replied half-heartedly.
“Katy, you have some of the solution and Judas has the other half. It makes perfect sense to me. Are you signed up for any relief work?”
“Actually yes, I am the rotating schedule,” Katy responded with a smile. “I’ve always wanted to do this since I was a little girl, that is, helping others.”
“That’s very hard to find.”
“What is?” Katy asked.
“Someone that possesses an enthusiasm for this particular field of work. It keeps you grounded and focused on the real task at hand, and not the greed of taking the donations and running away from the problems.” Forsythe eagerly chatted up a storm with Katy. He was in awe of her raw desire to fight poverty. It had become a fading quality in recent years.
“Thank you,” Katy said as she bid a goodnight to Dr. Forsythe.
“My pleasure.” Forsythe watched Katy as she walked away and head straight toward Judas.
“She’s a smart girl,” Forsythe replied as he welcomed the next guest to the white table. In a matter of moments, a sea of anxious people swarmed to Quentin Forsythe.
Judas was ready to call it a night when Katy approached him with acute reservation.
“Can I help you?” Judas turned to his approaching guest.
“Are you Dr. Judas Sturgis?” Katy asked biting her nails in an anxious reflex.
“Perhaps, well, yes of course I am,” he teased her. “You’re the young lady from earlier tonight. What was your name? Ah yes, Katy Madison. Am I correct?” Judas impressed Katy with his solid memory.
“Dr. Katy Madison.” She corrected him.
“My mistake, I’m truly sorry. What can I do for you?”
“Dr. Forsythe suggested we get together and bounce our ideas off each other.”
“Coffee?” Judas responded with an offer.
“Coffee?” Katy was puzzled.
“We’ll chat over some hot coffee. I know a great place right around the corner.”
“Sure, why not,” Katy replied back.
Judas took the chivalrous route and led the way to the revolving doors that exited out of the university.
Outside, the dark streets were abuzz with furious activity. Rain had started to come down hard upon the pavement. Judas snapped open his black mini umbrella and offered shelter to Katy.
“Shall we?” Judas escorted her out the doors and into the warm summer rain.