[i]The man was dying.
He knew it, and so did Doc Asimov. The soldier looked up at the doctor with tears in his eyes. You’re the best, he says, you have to save me. You have to try
He tries, he really does, but it’s all for not. The solder slips into the void, a bullet in his chest and streaks of tears in his eyes.
The soldier’s friends are pissed. You’re the best, they say, you could have saved him. You didn’t try. They beat him; break his arm, his leg, his ribs. They drag him to a post and lash him to it. To die.
The soldiers mock him, ridicule him. Then they part, showing one man. The Captain.
He strides up and tells him about the man who died. Talks about the rapes he had done, the killings he had committed. He talks about the rapes and killings he would have done if he had lived. Then he asks a question.
"Knowing what he did, knowing what he would have done, and knowing that at his very heart, at his very soul, he was an utterly irademable monster, would you still have tried to save him? or would you have let the man bleed and die?"[/i]
Doc Asimov awoke with a start. He sat up in his cot, breathing heavily. As his heart slowed, he listened to the sound of the city of london, and thought about the question. He couldn’t come up with an answer.
He still can’t.