“There, that should do it!” I said, disengaging my focus on a young widow’s heart. “Just lay off having too many salads this time.” I added quickly, dropping my arms.

‘Will it though?’ a voice in my head crooned.

I remembered visiting a medik-center just south of here and seeing all the people I had helped with my healing sciences dying in their bed slowly, their heart pressure slowing gradually. The medik said they’d probably die soon after. So why do I keep doing it? Why do I keep healing the living if deaths just going to turn around and kill them in their beds again anyways? Maybe it’s the fact I don’t like seeing children’s faces when they’re sick or upset (or both). Or maybe it’s the fact that because I’ve been doing it long enough now it’s just cause of habit ‘old dogs don’t learn new tricks,’ is what I think the saying for that is or something like that or anyhow...