Toyland – Garth Miró

May 9, 2025

Are you righteous? 

Do you love good? 

Do you feel the light of love from all? 

Do you believe your suffering will be any less because you’re this way, just and good and righteous? I believe just the opposite. You giant golden beings will experience a much greater fall. While I only have just a short hop down.

Back in residency, we were all standing in each other’s light. Pure, clean, shining. We all graduated top of our classes. We were told of our genius young. And often. And we believed it. We were going to be surgeons. And not just surgeons. Surgeons at the finest hospital. And we would not stop. We’d become Medical Directors. Tyrants. Sitting on the board. In government. The brightest of us dreaming of the day when we could order the entire nation to eat cyanide. 

“Are you going to the dinner at Big Chief’s tonight?” Kline asked under his breath, as we in the theater silently watched a man’s liver get sliced. The attending physician held it in his palm.

“Of course,” I whispered back. 

The man being operated on looked as if he were in the final stages of a glorious orgasm. Kline noted this by nodding and pointing his eyes. I did not smile. I did not like Kline. No one took him seriously, as he came from menial family even lower than mine. They still worked for a living. Something extremely shameful that forced him to perform these little affable jigs in order to make himself palatable. 

I did not want people associating us. 

The attending, done with the operation and his remarks about it, had his assistant sew the man up. The suture gave the fat man’s belly a little wink above the navel. Kline remarked it would make his fatness look even more ridiculous, and I pictured the man later in life. Uncomfortable to take his shirt off. I understood how thoughtful the assistant was in doing this. He’d reached into the future and saved beach goers a disgusting, hairy sight. 

There were many little joys of surgery they do not teach about. 

I walked down the hall with my notes quickly because I needed to pick up a gift for the party. I had ambition, which was surely a marker of my low upbringing, but after everything, I still thought the most holy role of the surgeon was to treat everyone who came through the doors as equal. I excused my ambition, for it was those humble beginnings that also made me unique in believing that.

Kline, already nipping his flask, stopped me at the end of the hall.

“You’re too serious,” he said, noticing my judgment. “No one as serious as you can be trusted. If you’re going to make it where it is I think you want, you got to ease up.” He shook the flask, offered.

“I need to be going,” I said. I looked to where Ken Cone was standing, far away from us. He stood there proudly. With a slight smirk. As his group of nurses fawned. 

He was magnanimous. 

He was liked.

I tried to break away, but Kline put his arm around me. “I’m serious,” he said as we walked. “You know what you need? You need to decide what beasts to adore. What banks to worship. And most importantly, what holy images to attack.” He took another nip. “These people, they don’t worry like you. They know their fate. It’s all set up.” He pointed to Cone. “Like your little buddy.”

As the Director of Surgery’s son, Cone was my biggest rival. And it didn’t help he was engaged to the head of the Medical Board’s daughter. Everyone loved him. Their reasons were obvious. They showered him in worship, trying anything to get a grip and hang on. I knew he despised me. He made every attempt to lavish me with compliments. Affirmations. Always in public. 

I studied his face, perfect, poreless. His half-Korean blood gave him a veneer of oriental exceptionalism to the old whites on staff. I watched him shift his posture, inspecting the uniform of one of our youngest nurses as she did a twirl and laughed. Did she know? It was rumored, though I’d never repeat it to encourage those rumors, that Cone hired out his services to god-awful third world hells. To conduct his own little experiments. On the side. Things on kids I’d rather not say. That I’d never say, to anyone, ever. His main feeling was joy. And lack.

“I really have to go, Kline.”

***

That night it was all four of us, Cone and his fiancée, me, and then Roth. Roth doing his usual thing, showing himself off as a man who practiced discipline. He never talked. Only agreed with Cone when he spoke, every third time. 

“What do you think Rob?” Cone asked, staring me down.

“Well…” I hadn’t been listening. I adjusted my tie. 

“He thinks a drink is in order.” Kline had appeared at my side. 

We walked away toward the bar and I looked for any excuse to annex myself. Up ahead, the group of untouchables. They stood there with welcoming smiles. We got closer and closer and closer, until…I saw the Chief. Miraculously alone. By the Botero looking upset, which was maybe why.

I broke away from Kline. This was my moment.

“Hello, sir,” I said. “Is everything alright?”

The big wrinkled head turned to me slowly. He looked down his long nose to where I stood, unimpressed. Lids barely lifting, for it wasn’t worth it to actually open his eyes. “Rob. You made it.” He took out a thin cigar and cut it. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually show your face after that hack job you gave an old patient of mine.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I did my best, but it—”

“Shut up, I’m joking. You did the right thing. The man had no insurance, it was good you didn’t waste anymore money or time.”

“Sir?”

“Look at my son.” I looked to him. And his beautiful fiancée. “There’s no way to change him. Believe me, I’ve tried. He doesn’t understand how to get things done, at least not the right way. He’s too flashy. No. Better to just leave him to his toys. I’m sure one day he’ll tire.” He took a deep drag. “But this leaves me with a problem. I need someone to promote. And from what I’ve seen recently, that might be you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me. Just tell me one thing. Do you know the most important truth a surgeon must follow?”

“…” I didn’t dare give an answer. I just prayed.

He smiled and opened his eyes. “The truth is, that some people are trash.” He put his delicate, manicured hand on my shoulder. “So, what I need to know is: can you differentiate?”

That is all I remember of that night. When I became what I am. Now, I am polite. I am fair. I keep my composure in public. Dress simple. I stay away from Justice because it makes for an easy life. There’s no need for it. Nothing bad happens. Nothing good happens. Just procedure. Just what keeps things moving forward. I say the right things. At the right time. I hate quietly. I save. And rarely spend. I am quick to help, for I know that help is a favor. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors. Favors.