Big, boisterous, bustling Trauma has a population of 7.53 billion.
Bands play day and night. Their motto: “Play this music loud.”
Street vendors hawk wares.
Buskers toot and strum.
Fifteen million medical workers live here responding to the alarms that sound throughout the day as beings from other lands arrive.
Visitors are victims of wars, accidents, poor planning, and pure evil.
They arrive in red helicopters and via Great Red Portal. Trauma ambulances drive roads into other lands and when permitted bring injured beings into Trauma. It does not matter whether the injury was recent or from long ago.
Miss Emeline Traveler came to Trauma once. Shiny patches of red began to bloom under her skin.
“Oh, I’m bound for trauma,” she said, when she saw the ambulance.
“What beautiful silver buildings and shiny silver streets,” she said when she arrived addled by the drugs given for her pain. She saw silver dragons in the reflections on the rain-filled streets.
Miss Emeline Traveler came to Trauma once. Shiny patches of red began to bloom under her skin.
“Oh, I’m bound for trauma,” she said, when she saw the ambulance.
“What beautiful silver buildings and shiny silver streets,” she said when she arrived addled by the drugs given for her pain. She saw silver dragons in the reflections on the rain-filled streets.
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