Cure to War... (Revolutionary War, and beyond)

[Zachariah Staus]

“MEDIC!” That sound permeated Zachariahs every waking moment back than, the revolution had been like this since its beginnings, he had been forced to hack limbs en masse, watch comrades die. He would bring in bodies as cannon fell all around him, this is how he spent his twenties, surrounded by blood and the dead and dieing. His “revolutionary” approach to medicine was worthless here when 100 half dead men were waiting for you to carve pieces of shrapnel out of their chest, arm or head.

Liquor their only solace as he ripped out whatever he could to keep there from being infection, his fellow doctors spewed their guts on the floor at either side of him, as he brought with the wounds chunks of meat and bone.

He had considered whether a cure for war existed, right after sawing off a British soldiers arm, a prisoner of war, who was pocked with lead, and chunks of himself torn away. He had saved the man, but later when he had gone to check on him he watched as two Americans slit his throat.
The doctor was stunned, unable to react... It had not been an act of gentleman but of animals looking down on some hated rival.

This was war, the elegance officers wrote about was no where to be seen. A medic they say could never understand war, he saved lives while soldiers took them, but it was that act of indiscriminate nature that made his outlook change. He had accepted the revolution, he accepted the freedom of America from an oppressive foreign king.
He did not accept war, he did not accept death for senseless reasons, and he looked on mankind wholly different, he would cure this rage if it took him an eternity.

He abandoned the practical medicines and looked to the mind for solace, cadaver bodies had their heads carved open in droves as he learned the ways of the brain. He had even looked to experimentation with the mind from Aztec documents... Allowing him to drill into a living human head, without killing the man, and setting off certain senses inside the brain. He turned down a radical path, and though he maintained his training as a doctor to sustain his livelihood, every night was spent with the mind.

He probably would have changed the world with his research labeled insane, or historic and than die away in history, but he was not to be remembered by history, no a wealthy benefactor had been caught up in the research of Dr. Staus. Money poured into Zachariahs coffers, and at the eve of his great breakthrough into something... Different, his world was ripped apart, and he felt his blood drain away...