Mikhail Pugovkin, a middle-aged man with determined eyes, sits uneasily on a creaking metal bed. Bandages cover his right arm, though beneath, the skin is unbroken. A young nurse hovers nervously by his side, clipboard in hand, as a stern surgeon enters, his white coat fluttering like a flag of authority.
Dr. Vasilyev, the surgeon, approaches with a practiced frown. "Mikhail Ivanovich, we must proceed with the amputation. It is necessary by the new protocol."
"The arm is healthy. I refuse," Mikhail replies, voice trembling with dignity rather than fear. Silence thickens as the nurse glances between them, uncertain whose orders to follow.
Lala Kramarenko, a young gymnast, lies unconscious on the table, her right leg marked for surgery. A senior surgeon consults a chart, ignoring a nurse’s whispered protest.
Nurse Irina, voice barely audible, tries to interject. "But the other leg is the injured one, Doctor. Her right leg is fine."
Dr. Morozov does not look up. "The order was clear. The plan must be fulfilled," he states, already reaching for the scalpel.
Anna Smirnova, a mother clutching her child’s hand, gazes at the rows of folding tables. Her face is etched with worry as she watches another person collapse, swiftly carried away by silent orderlies.
"Why does no one question this?" she whispers to another in line, but the woman only shrugs, eyes downcast.
Comrade Petrov, the bureaucrat, taps his pen against the desk. "We are behind schedule in the central district. Remind the hospitals: the plan is not optional," he orders, passing the file to his assistant. The assistant nods, eyes empty, as she prepares the next round of directives.
Mikhail[/@ch_1] sits upright, resolute, as Dr. Vasilyev returns, clipboard in hand.]
"If you refuse, you will be reported. There are consequences," Dr. Vasilyev warns, his tone softer now, almost pleading.
"I would rather lose my freedom than my arm. I am not a number on your chart," Mikhail replies, his voice echoing in the emptiness.
Anna sits alone, her child sleeping in her lap, watching as orderlies wheel away another bed. Outside, the city resumes its routine, the cost hidden behind closed doors.
"We survive, but at what price?" she murmurs, gazing into the uncertain light of a new day.
