Shadows of London: 3-16 Natural Selection

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After witnessing the passing of a young life. Edward tells Caroline it is just "natural selection".

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Style: Event Logs: Louis Pasteur, Smallpox Vaccine Required: Mist-Shrouded Visitor Recommended: Gismonda, Wonderful Age (Dress), Pursue the Scarlet Rose, His Vow, Night in Moulin Rouge, Mist-Shrouded Visitor Rewards: 3,000 , 600 , 3 , 1 , 1 , Blueprint: East of the Baltic Sea

East of the Baltic Sea

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Transcript

Expand for script.

• Niamh passed away at 6:18 in the morning.
• A pastor was called in to offer prayers, and workers promptly arrived to move her tiny body.
• Due to the shortage of beds, after a quick disinfection and cleaning, her bed is immediately occupied by another patient.
• No one raises any objections.
• I support Niamh's mother, who is numb with grief, as we walk out of the ward.
• As I step outside, the sun hangs high in the sky, generously casting its radiance upon the workhouse that has been ravaged by pain and death.

• Rhys: You're here.

• Rhys yawns as he holds a tray of food, preparing to head towards the lodging house.
• You: Have you been awake all night, or have you just woken up?

• Rhys: I managed to get a few hours of sleep. You should learn to nap anywhere too, whenever you have some free time.

• Rhys: This is the breakfast the doctor requested. Could you please take it to him?

• I take the tray. This time, it's filled with a generous amount of milk and a few slices of bread that aren't so fresh.
• Rhys: The doctor just finished surgery early this morning and said he needs to rest in his room for an hour.

• Rhys: He wants you to find him when you have the time.

• You: (I suppose he wants to draw some of my blood to develop the drug.)

• Rhys: If I were you, I'd go later and let him sleep a little longer.
• After Rhys finishes explaining, he yawns and leaves.

• I stand still, looking down at the tray, and notice obvious stains on the collar and hem of my clothes.
• They're from when I helped Niamh's mother clean and wipe her body after Niamh wet herself.
• You: Niamh...

• I have witnessed the deaths of my relatives and friends.
• But witnessing someone peacefully fall into eternal sleep while being surrounded by loved ones, is different from succumbing to death after hours of struggle and pain.
• And she was so young...
• You: (I shouldn't dwell on that right now... There are still too many things that need to be done. This is not the time to indulge in sorrow.)

• I force myself to perk up and find a nearby water pump. Then, I change out of my dirty clothes.

• You: Um... Doctor Grey? Are you awake?

• Half an hour later, I stand at the door of the lodging house with the tray in my hands, my voice a soft whisper.
• There is no response from the room. I gently push open the door.

• Morning sunlight spills into the room through the window.
• To my surprise, Doctor Grey is not lying on the bed but fast asleep at the table.
• I approach him silently, carefully placing the breakfast on the table.
• The birds outside the window sing loudly. I reach out and close the window, not wanting their chirping to disturb his slumber.
• In the gentle sunlight, his sleepy face comes into view, appearing completely vulnerable and defenseless.
• Edward Grey: Hmm?

• I don't know if he woke up because I closed the window too late or if I used too much force when closing it. He grunts, and opens his eyes, fully alert.
• Just like a soldier on the battlefield, he quickly transitions into his work mode, appearing as though he could perform another surgery at any moment.
• Edward Grey: ...Caroline?

• You: I'm sorry, Doctor Grey, I didn't mean to wake you up.

• He looks around the room, his gaze shifting to the furniture in the lodging house, as if trying to recall why I'm here.
• Edward Grey: Hmm... no... What time is it? How long have I been asleep?

• When he realizes he is no longer in the treatment room, he relaxes and rubs his forehead.
• You: It's just eight o'clock. I've brought breakfast. Would you like to have some now?

• Edward Grey: Just put it down first. How is that little girl doing?

• You: Her bed is now empty.

• Upon hearing the words, Doctor Grey falls into a momentary silence.
• Edward Grey: I am very sorry.

• He speaks the words softly, then lifts his gaze, carefully observing me.

If you persuaded Niamh's mother in 3-15

• Edward Grey: Will you hold it against me? The fact I didn't agree to give her chloroform?

• Edward Grey: I could have eased her suffering, but I didn't do so.

• You: When I saw her struggling in pain, for a moment, I did think you were being too heartless.

• You: But I know why you made that choice, because it is the best way.

• Edward Grey: ...

• You: No one would be happy to see a young, innocent child die.

• You: But as a doctor, what you see is not just the life in front of you, but countless other lives as well.

• You: So I won't blame you, Doctor Grey.

• You: If we had enough chloroform for all patients, we wouldn't have to be so stingy with it.

• You: Let me think of a way to bring in more from outside—

• Edward Grey: I don't want to burst your bubble, Caroline, but you're thinking too simplistically. This isn't about money or medication.

• Edward Grey: You might be able to raise enough funds to purchase a large quantity of medication. Perhaps you could even empty all the pharmacies in London.

• Edward Grey: But you can't really solve the problem of equal access to medical resources.

• Edward Grey: And that is the real issue at hand - who has the right to weigh life and death?

If you pleaded with Doctor Grey in 3-15

• Edward Grey: Did the chloroform make her more comfortable?

• I choke up, and recall how Niamh's muscles relaxed after inhaling the anesthesia.
• You: Her pose became less disturbing, but I don't know if I would call it "comfortable".

• He seems to have gleaned the answer from my face, and his expression relaxes. He comforts me.
• Edward Grey: Chloroform is a very powerful anesthesia. I imagine that the child's departure was not very painful.

• His consolation only makes me even more distressed.
• You: I know there's a shortage of medicine right now, Edward. I'll cover the cost of the chloroform Niamh used.

• You: Other patients shouldn't lose the opportunity to receive anesthesia because of this matter. Let me think of a way to bring in more from the outside.

• Edward Grey: This is not a matter of money nor medicine, Miss Rayes.
• He coldly interrupts me, his gaze piercingly sharp.

• Edward Grey: You might be able to raise enough funds to purchase a large quantity of medication. Perhaps you could even empty all the pharmacies in London.

• Edward Grey: But you can't really solve the problem of equal access to medical resources.

• Edward Grey: And that is the real issue at hand - who has the right to weigh life and death?

• He suddenly gets up from the chair and impatiently paces a few steps.
• Edward Grey: You haven't been here for long enough, Caroline. You should stay a few more days.

• Edward Grey: Then you will realize that even though you thought everyone should have the right to live, in reality, true equality only exists in death.

• Edward Grey: Who should the doctor save, a young person with sudden peritonitis or a child infected with diphtheria?

• Edward Grey: A large group of people have malaria but we only have one bottle of quinine. What should we do?

• Edward Grey: Scotland Yard has put the Eastern District in a lockdown. Ten people have been given three loaves of bread. How can they distribute it in a way that allows them to survive?

• Edward Grey: Caroline, tell me - how should I proceed? Do I truly have the right to make a choice?

• He suddenly stops in his tracks, spins around, and forcefully grabs my shoulder. His eyes, deprived of sleep, are bloodshot and look incredibly terrifying.
• I lean against the wall, and gasp at the unbearable pain in my shoulder,
• You: Let go of me, Doctor Grey! You're hurting me!

• His hands tremble, as if awakening from a daze, and his eyes, which were staring at me, regain their brilliance.
• After taking a deep breath, he slowly releases my shoulder.
• Edward Grey: I'm sorry...

• The terrifying aura dissipates. He takes a step back, his gaze empty and vacant.
• After the pain subsides a little, sadness and bitterness engulf me.
• How many times has he been faced with such hard choices?
• How many helpless patients has he handled, like Niamh?
• How much courage does he need to have in order to not give up, even after concluding that true equality only exists in death?
• You: Edward.

• He regains his senses and silently distances himself from me. However, I just want to embrace him. He seems so trapped...
• I feel his body stiffen for a moment, then slowly relax.
• ...
• Edward Grey: Do we have to keep doing this until lunchtime?

• Edward Grey: I don't mind, but the patients might not be able to wait that long.

• I wake up as if from a dream, and quickly let go.
• My face burns, and I can only lower my head, attempting to conceal my expression.
• Edward Grey: I almost forgot. Caroline, we have more important matters to attend to.

• He goes to a corner of the lodging house, retrieves a medicine box and rummages through it.
• From this angle, I can clearly see a flushed earlobe peeking from beneath his soft golden hair.
• When he turns around, I immediately recall what the "important matters" are when I see the large syringe and glass bottle in his hands.
• Edward Grey: Hold on a moment, Caroline.

• You: Um, uh...

• He notices the tension in my voice and crouches down to help me push up my sleeve, while calmly comforting me.
• Edward Grey: I promise it will only sting a little.

• Edward Grey: If you're scared, you can hold onto me like what you did just now.

• You: Won't that interfere with the syringe?

• He chuckles softly.
• Edward Grey: That's true.

• You: Ah—!

• Once he has distracted me with chatter, he quickly inserts the needle into a blood vessel.
• After the momentary pain subsides, I slowly exhale, and look back at Doctor Grey, who is crouching in front of me.
• He carefully checks the syringe. Dark red blood flows into it, filling the glass syringe.
• You: (This is the blood I inherited from my mother...)

• I gaze at it as if seeing my own blood for the first time, unable to discern any difference between it and the blood of others.
• You: (Is it really effective in treating the epidemic?)

• You: (Even if it is, does it even work on other patients?)

• Edward Grey: This treatment is new. It carries a significant amount of risk, but in the face of the epidemic that is currently spreading, we can only take a leap of faith.

• Edward notices my confusion and begins to explain things to me.
• Edward Grey: A few years ago, Louis Pasteur developed a method to prevent anthrax and named it "vaccination".

• Edward Grey: Simply put, it means obtaining pathogenic microorganisms from a patient and allowing healthy individuals to develop a mild infection in order to acquire the ability to resist diseases.

• You: Like the smallpox vaccine?

• Edward Grey: It is similar to that, yes. What we need to do now is something along the same lines.

• Edward Grey: I have obtained enough blood from the infected, but the key is to weaken the pathogenic factors in this blood.

• You: Do you think there is something in my blood that can weaken the virus?

• Edward Grey: I don't know, but it's worth a shot at least.

• The syringe is full. He deftly withdraws the needle, leaving a conspicuous bleeding spot on my arm.
• I press on it with a handkerchief and steal a glance at him.
• You: Aren't you curious about why my blood has such extraordinary powers?

• Edward Grey: I would rather wait for you to tell me in person.

• He places the glass bottle in the medicine box and drags the forgotten breakfast plate over.
• Edward Grey: Now, you must eat all of this, Caroline.

• Edward Grey: After getting your blood drawn, you should replenish your body and make sure to get enough rest.

• You: Isn't this your breakfast?

• Edward Grey: I'm not sick, and I haven't had any blood drawn. Just bread will be enough for me.

• He smiles and waves his hand, and the dark circles under his eyes trigger a spark of indignation in me.
• I push the plate aside without hesitation and lean forward, staring at him.
• Edward Grey: What?

• You: Let's eat this together. If you don't eat, then I won't eat either.

• Edward Grey: There's no need for that, Caroline. Your blood might have a special effect on the epidemic, and I have to make sure you—

• You: Edward, you are more important than me.

• You: If you get sick, what good is my blood? I don't have the ability to develop a vaccine.

• He ponders this for a few seconds, then looks at me again. I look at him resolutely, and he raises his hands in surrender.
• Edward Grey: Okay. Let's... share then.

• We sit down at the table, facing each other, and begin to share breakfast.
• The milk has turned cold, and the bread does not taste good.
• But in the bright sunlight, a moment of relaxation is the perfect accompaniment to a meal.
• You: If the vaccine works, we can get the epidemic under control, right?

• You: At least regular folks won't have to constantly worry about getting infected.

• Edward Grey: Don't get too optimistic too soon. Even if the vaccine is effective, it seems it can only help a portion of people given the current situation.

• Edward Grey: I plan to prioritize vaccination for young people who are in better physical condition.

• You: Young people? Shouldn't priority be given to the elderly and children?

• You: They are more susceptible to infection and also have a harder time recovering. They should be given the vaccine.

• He chews the bread, not making a sound. My heart sinks deeper.
• You: Edward?

• Edward Grey: Let's not talk about that for now. I have a feeling that we might have another disagreement.

• Edward Grey: There's no need to ruin this rare breakfast over something that hasn't even happened yet, right?

• His smile carries a trace of pleading. I recall the numerous disputes that have occurred between us.
• You: ...

Alright

• I swallow the words I am about to say and silently scoop up the milk with a spoon.
• A strange atmosphere fills the dining space, and after much contemplation, I finally speak up.
• You: I'm just... really worried about you, Edward.

• You: Perhaps from a rational standpoint, you can judge that administering the vaccine to young people would be the optimal solution to controlling the epidemic.

• You: But then, your conscience will weigh heavily on you.

• Edward Grey: My conscience?

• You: Am I not right? The things you just mentioned - peritonitis, diphtheria, quinine, and chloroform... They are all cases you'll remember forever.

• You: Because you can't forget the patients who couldn't be saved.

• Edward Grey: ...

• He stops eating and stays motionless on the chair.
• His green eyes are gazing out the window, but they are blank and empty.
• I hold my breath and watch him silently. After a long time, he finally smiles faintly.
• Edward Grey: Perhaps you're right, and I can't forget.

• Edward Grey: But you don't have to worry about me. My "conscience" - if it really exists - has accepted these facts.

The problem still needs to be solved

• You: But the problem needs to be solved sooner or later.

• I take a deep breath and my spoon wobbles, causing a few drops of milk to fall back into the dish.
• You: I don't want to argue with you, Edward. If your choice makes more sense, I'll accept it.

• You: Just tell me the reason for prioritizing young people for vaccination.

• After a brief moment of silence, he lets out a sigh.

• Edward Grey: Do you know that I once had a younger brother?

• You: Yes, I remember. And he...

• I was told that he died at the age of seven from an illness.
• Edward Grey: I once told you that he passed away from a fever without proper treatment.

• Edward Grey: That much is true, but I've kept some things hidden from you.

• You: What is it?

• Edward Grey: At that time, he wasn't the only one who got sick. I was sick as well.

• Doctor Grey lowers his gaze and speaks calmly.
• Edward Grey: He was seven years old and I was fourteen. He fell ill first, and while taking care of him, I got infected and started running a fever.

• Edward Grey: The two of us burned together for four days, almost losing our sanity. Our foster father finally returned, and said he had obtained the medicine.

• Edward Grey: However, it was only enough for one person.

• You: !

• Dennis: *huff, huff*

• Young Edward: Dennis, are you feeling any better?

• Dennis: Big brother... I feel terrible. Is there any water?

• Young Edward: Hey! Is anyone there? Can you please give us some water?

• Young Edward: Father! Dennis is thirsty! We need water!

• Dennis: Stop knocking, Edward. Father must have gone to the church. He's not here...

• Dennis: It wasn't easy for him to get that bottle of medicine...

• Young Edward: ...

• Young Edward: (But there's only one bottle of medicine.)

• Young Edward: (If we drink it, we'll get better. But...)

• Dennis: Edward, can't we share the medicine?

• Young Edward: It won't work. The medication won't be effective if you don't take the proper dosage.

• Dennis: ...

• Dennis: So, who should drink it, Edward?

• Who should be the one to survive, Edward?
• The young man can't think of an answer. His hazy gaze is fixed upon the cross hanging on the wall.
• He wants to ask the heavens, but the skies remain silent and indifferent.
• But the answer... lies deep within his heart.

• You: ...

• He continues to gaze out the window, his thoughts completely immersed in the memories of the past.
• He was only fourteen years old when he was faced with such a cruel decision.
• The experiences that followed over the years were nothing more than a repetition of what happened in his youth.

• You: What happened next?

• Edward Grey: Neither of us touched that bottle of medicine until Dennis passed away.

• Edward Grey: On the sixth day of my high fever, I finally regained some clarity and wanted to ask how Dennis was doing. By then, his body had turned cold.

• You: Edward...

• Edward Grey: His eyes were still open. After I closed his eyes for him, the first thing I did was reach for that bottle of medicine.

• He says this with a self-deprecating smile on his face.
• Edward Grey: I'd been waiting for Dennis to die all along. Once he was gone, I could take that bottle of medicine without any guilt and continue living.

• Edward Grey: I knew that Dennis was young, weak, and could not withstand a high fever.

• Edward Grey: So why didn't I just make him take the medicine from the beginning?

• You: Edward, let's not talk about that any more...

• My heart is writhing in pain.
• He snaps back to reality and silently hands me a handkerchief. Instead of taking the handkerchief, I grasp his hand tightly.
• He furrows his brow, his expression growing grave.
• Edward Grey: Don't be like this, Caroline. I didn't bring it up just to make a lady cry.

• Edward Grey: Dennis is dead, and I am alive. That's reality, and I can't change it.

• Edward Grey: From a certain perspective, I did indeed take away my younger brother's chance of survival and managed to stay alive myself.

• Edward Grey: But from another perspective, it was simply natural selection.

• He stands up and passes me two very old books from the simple bookshelf.
• The covers are tattered, the pages inside yellowed, and they've probably been read countless times.
• You: On the Origin of Species and... "An Essay on the Principle of Population".

• These are two well-known titles. There are few who are unaware of these two books, but there aren't many who have actually read them.
• I casually flip through one and notice notes densely written inside. The handwriting seems immature, clearly reflecting Edward's youth at the time.
• Edward Grey: Survival is not a given, but rather a process of elimination that takes place through constant competition and strategic maneuvering.

• Edward Grey: During the first two years of my medical career, I gave it my all, trying to save every patient, no matter how severe their illness, without ever giving up.

• Edward Grey: But the truth is just that cruel: with the same medication and the same treatment methods, some people survived while others perished.

• Edward Grey: Some people, even when they are seriously ill, still fight for their lives; while others, despite their wealth and luxury, complain even when they are not sick.

• Edward Grey: I felt sorry for the elderly women and the sickly orphans, deliberately directing the medical resources I had access to towards them.

• Edward Grey: But in the end, it was the young men and women with strong constitutions who managed to survive.

• Edward Grey: This is natural selection, Caroline. It allows those who can survive to live on, and those who cannot simply perish.

• Edward Grey: Life has evolved into what it is today through this process of natural selection.

• Edward Grey: I'm just a part of it, along with Dennis. The Eastern District, London, England, Europe... the whole world is like this.

• I tightly grip the pages of the book, striving to sound calm.
• You: So what about morality and civilization? Does the existence of human morality and civilization mean nothing in this struggle for survival?

• You: I don't think so. I believe the world shouldn't be determined solely by survival of the fittest, Edward.

• He furrows his brow, gazing intensely at me, and seems about to explain further.
• Rhys: Doctor?

• There is a sudden knocking on the door of the lodging house. After a while, Rhys cautiously peeks around the door.
• Rhys: And here I thought you two were lockin' lips.

• His muttering leaves us feeling awkward, and Edward's face darkens.
• Edward Grey: What's the matter?

• Rhys: Two patients have been brought to the treatment room, doctor. The nurse is waiting for you.

• Edward closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. He quickly pulls his thoughts away from his philosophies, switching back to his role as a doctor.
• Edward Grey: Alright, I'll change my clothes and go right away.

• Rhys shrugs and walks away.
• Edward opens the wardrobe and puts on a clean coat. I silently put away the plate.
• We busy ourselves with our tasks, and say nothing.
• Just as he is about to leave, I ask a final question.
• You: Do you still blame yourself for Dennis' death, Doctor Grey?

• You: I'm not referring to the sadness and pain of losing a loved one.

• You: But... do you still fault yourself for his death?

• He turns his back to me before answering.
• Edward Grey: Yes, I still do.

• Edward Grey: I know it's something that was bound to happen, and I have to accept that I'm still alive.

• Edward Grey: It is both my destiny and my choice.

• He twists the doorknob and walks out of the building.