I have used visuals from new footage & old footage. This video was metamorphically created with a fine-tooth comb. I live in California. However, I lived in Austin and South Texas for 13 years. Texas has become a theocracy with draconian laws especially against women. I had this idea in my head for days. Now I am sharing with you guys hoping to create a metamorphosis of turn the theocracy on its head. We are all living in different states in one America. 2025 has changed that.
Why Not Science or Medicine?
Science is the foundation of earth, the expansive universe, climate, and even the human body itself. Yet, entire populations erase knowledge, abandon education, and reject reality as they become mesmerized by the false promises of a Pied Piper leader. He preaches lies as absolute truth, urging followers toward destruction, only to step back at the last moment and save himself. They march forward blindly, forsaking progress, medicine, and reason, longing for a world before vaccines, before scientific advancements. The question is not just why, but it is how they let it happen.
Chapter One: Before the Unraveling
The morning sun filtered through the blinds as [Nurse Carrie Soleta] slipped her feet into worn sneakers as the weight of another evening shift settled onto her shoulders. A routine morning with coffee steaming in the corner of her kitchen and the hum of the television filling the silence.
The news anchor’s voice cut through the quiet, polished but strained.
"A new anti-science bill was introduced, aimed to dismantle vaccine mandates and restrict scientific funding. Critics say it could destabilize public health, but supporters claim it is a return to natural medicine.”
She stopped mid-sip, eyes narrowing as the broadcast continued. The language sounded eerily dismissive, almost calculated. It did not just suggest a policy shift. It signaled something far deeper.
Science had always been the backbone of her work. The foundation of every treatment, every consultation, and every procedure. It was considered non-essential.
Shaking off the unease, she finished her coffee, grabbed her bag, and headed out. Her Evening shift at the gynecology and surgical floors awaited where a space where progress still thrived. Mothers seeking reproductive care, families discussing medical options, and patients relying on advancements once taken for granted.
For now, life in the hospital has still been untouched. But the cracks had begun to form, whether they wanted to see them or not.
Chapter Two: Divided by a Curtain
The soft hum of monitors and distant chatter filled the gynecology floor as [Nurse Carrie Soleta] moved through her rounds. The air smelled of antiseptic and fresh linens, a comforting scent of safety and control, at least within these walls.
She reached Room 312; a double suite divided only by a thin fabric curtain. On one side, an informed family radiated pure joy where the mother, father, and grandmother hovered over a newborn. Their laughter was light and unbothered. Discussions of genetics, prenatal science, and the child’s future flew easily between them.
But from the other side of the curtain, the sharp crack of a woman’s voice pierced the air.
"Baby killers! Devils! God will punish you!"
The nurse stiffened, instinctively stepping forward before tensions escalated.
The other woman, struggling through labor, gripped her bedsheets, terror flashing in her wide eyes. Her fear was not just losing her baby. It encompassed all she knew and believed about medical intervention.
The celebratory family paused, exchanging unsure glances, their joy momentarily dimmed.
The nurse’s voice was gentle but firm. "Lolita, let’s focus on your breathing. Your baby needs you to calm down."
A breath. A moment. Then the woman tightened her grip, mumbling under her breath but obeying.
The nurse exhaled, the atmosphere fragile but holding,
For now.
Chapter Three: Professionalism in the Face of Fear
[Nurse Carrie Soleta] stood beside the mother in bed A, smiling as she checked her vital signs. Her presence was steady and reassuring. The family, bright-eyed and informed, carried an air of contentment, their voices warm as they spoke about their newborn and their trust in modern medicine.
She finished recording the readings, adjusted the IV slightly, and moved toward the other side of the room. A deep breath. A quiet reset.
The woman, Lolita, in bed B, her dark hair damp with sweat, clenched her sheets. Fear and anger mixed in her wide, frantic eyes. As the nurse approached, her voice rose again into a sharp, accusatory tone.
"Baby killer. “Progressive science lover," she spat, her voice trembling, though it was not clear if from rage or desperation.
The nurse kept her expression neutral. She had dealt with hostility before, but this was different. It was not just skepticism. It was terror, deeply rooted in pain. “Good evening," the nurse said calmly, her voice as steady as her hands. "I’m here to take your vitals."
She moved carefully, her touch precisely checking her contractions, monitoring her pulse, and recording her temperature. Instead of engaging the hostility, she focused on care, asking about her dietary needs, her family, and whether she had support nearby.
At first, the woman resisted. But as the nurse continued, maintaining a quiet, steady presence, the tension began to ease. Her breath slowed. The fight in her voice dulled to quiet muttering.
Science had saved thousands in this very hospital. However, others viewed it differently.
The nurse finished her notes, turned to refill the woman’s water pitcher, giving her a moment of silence before returning.
"Let me know if you need anything," she said softly as she placed the jug back on the tray.
She moved to the next room. The scene fades.
Chapter Four: The Nurse’s Station
The hushed rhythm of the gynecology floor slowed as [Nurse Carrie Soleta] finished her last rounds, settling into the nurse’s station with its sterile white counters scattered with folders, tablets, and half-empty coffee cups.
Her best friend nurse, Mary Lou], leaned back in her chair, rubbing her tired eyes.
"Long night?" the nurse asked, clicking the patient files.
"Long week," her friend muttered, stretching her arms. "And it’s not just the patients. It feels like things are shifting."
A third nurse, [Suzy Delgado], sighed, adjusting their badge. "Anyone else notice how many people are suddenly refusing certain treatments?"
The conversation drifted into quiet murmurs, subtle concerns threading between each exchange. The hospital was still functional and still a place of science and care, but unease had crept in.
The nurse stirred her tea, nodding slowly. She had seen it too, the hesitation, whispered doubts, patients requesting to remove their medical history from records. It was not loud yet.
But it was growing.
Chapter Five: Conversations in the Nurse’s Station
The quiet hum of machines pulsed in the background as [Nurse Carrie Soleta] leaned forward, listening as her colleagues’ traded stories.
"Had a patient refuse anesthesia today," one nurse murmured, shaking her head. "Wanted to 'tough it out' naturally. Said medicine was unnatural."
Another sighed, stirring cold coffee in a paper cup. "My last consultant refused chemo. Said she read online that the body heals itself if you pray hard enough."
The psych doc, passing by, slowed his steps. "It’s happening everywhere," he muttered, setting down his tablet. "Patients pulling their records, rejecting proven treatments and it’s like fear is overriding logic."
The nurses exchanged glances. It was not just one ward—it was gynecology, oncology, neurology, pediatrics. The slow decline of trust in medical advancements was slipping into everyday cases.
"Feels like something bigger," [Nurse Mary Lou] said finally, pressing her hands against her temples. "It’s not just skepticism. It is spreading."
Silence settled that was heavy with unspoken truths. The world outside the hospital was shifting, and soon, it would reach the doors they once thought untouchable.
Chapter Six: The Weight of Words
The distant hum of the news broadcast filled the nurses’ station, the voice of the new president crackling through the air.
"Dismantling vaccines. No abortions. Maternal care limited to routine procedures. Miscarriages punishable by imprisonment."
The words hit like lead.
A sudden wail cut through the hallway. The nurse turned, recognizing the sound of a woman shattered by grief.
She took a steady breath and stepped into the room.
The young woman in bed clutched her sheets, body curled inward, shoulders shaking with sobs. Her miscarriage, fresh and raw, now was burdened by the weight of political cruelty.
"You’re okay," the nurse said gently, kneeling beside her. "The rule hasn’t been signed into law. You’re safe."
The woman’s ragged breathing slowed, tears still glistening but were no longer choking her.
"Can I get you something?" the Nurse Carrie Soleta asked softly. "Crackers, milk, juice?"
A nod. A quiet moment of consent.
She left the room, her own heartbeat steady but tense as she retrieved the food from the kitchen refrigerator and then she returned. As she placed the tray beside the woman, she took her hand, warm and trembling, and held it.
"Breathe in. Breathe out."
She waited. The woman followed.
A long, fragile silence passed before the nurse stood, offered a final smile, and stepped back into the hallway.
At the nurses’ station, her colleague looked up, exhaustion flickering in her eyes.
"Lunch?"
The nurse exhaled, nodding.
Together, they walked toward the elevator, leaving the floor behind, just for a moment.
Chapter Seven: Breaking News Over Lunch
The cafeteria buzzed with low conversation, the clatter of trays and distant hum of coffee machines filling the air. [Nurse Carrie Soleta] and her best friend nurse Mary Lou settled into their seats, feeling the warmth of their baked potatoes and their delicious looking chef salads offered a brief comfort against the exhaustion of their shift.
Their talk drifted to the hospital of how lucky they were to work with doctors who still prioritized care, and how the walls of this institution had, so far, held against the crumbling of science outside.
But then, her boyfriend, the psych doc Edward Begini, approached with his tight expression, and his steps slower than usual.
He sat beside her, exhaling sharply before speaking.
"Patient in bed B is worse than I thought."
The words felt heavy before he even explained.
The nurse’s breath caught as he unraveled the truth. The patient was not just battling depression. She was a victim of relentless abuse, raped by her own father, forced to carry his child, and trapped in a home where violence was routine.
Silence.
The nurse stared at her tray, unable to meet his gaze, unable to speak.
Her best friend covered her mouth, eyes wide, unblinking.
And then the psych doc looked at his phone. His face hardened.
"The president just signed it," he said. "Mandatory full-term pregnancy for rape victims. No exceptions."
A beat.
"And another order will be starting next week, women who miscarry will be imprisoned."
The cafeteria blurred, the laughter of nearby tables, and the scraping of silverware were all distant and irrelevant.
The nurse felt her throat tighten, a heat rising behind her eyes before the tears finally came.
Her best friend, once tense, now crumbled beside her, wiping at her face but unable to stop shaking.
The world they trusted, the science they stood in, the compassion they believed in was gone.
Chapter Eight: The Collapse
The cafeteria was filled with quiet conversation, the muted clatter of trays, and the hum of weary professionals sharing fleeting moments of rest.
Then, the TV screen flickered.
A news broadcast. The tone in the anchor’s voice, and the bold red banner across the bottom of the screen, sent a chill through the air before the words even registered.
"Effective immediately, the government has issued an executive order shutting down all hospitals deemed to be in violation of new moral healthcare standards, including maternity clinics and abortion services. All staff will be fired. Patients must be moved. The closures begin tonight."
The cafeteria went still and silent.
Nurses, doctors, technicians, and every face was turned toward the screen. Their hands gripping cups, utensils hovering midair, and their breath caught in open mouths.
[Nurse Carrie Soleta] felt her chest tighten.
"No." The word barely left her lips.
Beside her, the psych doc, usually composed was blinking rapidly and staring at the screen as if reading it over and over would change the words.
The silence shattered with choked voices, chairs scraping, and hurried whispers spreading like wildfire.
Where would the patients go? Where would the Mothers, the newborns, the cancer patients, and the fragile survivors of trauma go?
The hospital was not just a building. it was life itself.
And now, it was being erased.
Chapter Nine: The Call to Order
The psych doc inhaled deeply, pressing his hands against the table, forcing himself upright. He had trained for crisis situations, but nothing had prepared him for this.
Across the cafeteria, nurses, doctors, aides looked lost, frozen, their minds racing to patients upstairs, surgeries in progress, and newborns resting in bassinets.
He cleared his throat, his voice calm but firm. "We need to keep moving."
The hospital staff, as if given permission to function again, stood, trays abandoned, uniforms smoothing, and faces hardening.
And then, the PA system crackled to life.
"Attention all staff. We will be holding immediate meetings for all departments in staggered intervals. We must organize patient care before closure begins. No patient is to be left unattended. Details will be provided shortly."
The cafeteria held its breath.
The nurse felt her pulse against her fingertips, her body still in fight mode even as she processed the words.
They were not giving up, but they were strategizing.
The psych doc turned to her, his expression unreadable but determined. "We do what we always do, care for them, until the last second."
She nodded, swallowing back the grief.
No matter what came next, they would not abandon their patients.
Chapter Ten: The First Meeting
The hospital auditorium hummed with the murmurs of doctors, nurses, technicians. The sheer volume of staff packing the room as they shuffled into their designated seats.
The nurse and the psych doc walked side by side, their hands brushing briefly before settling into chairs near the front. The weight of uncertainty sat between them like an unwelcome guest.
Their best friend nurse, however, lingered at the doorway.
"I can’t," she whispered, glancing back toward the elevators. "I need to be upstairs."
She meant it because the patients still needed care, still needed stability, even as their world crumbled.
The nurse nodded, understanding.
As her friend hurried back to the floors, the overhead speakers crackled, and the hospital management stepped onto the stage.
The PA system echoed through the packed room, but the hush was immediate.
"We have limited time. Our priority is transitioning patients out safely. Every department will be assigned specific tasks. No one is to leave a single patient behind."
The psych doc sat forward, his brow furrowed.
This was not just closure, but it was an evacuation.
The nurse pressed her hands together, fighting the sinking feeling in her gut.
The clock was ticking, and every life inside the hospital was now in their hands.
Chapter Eleven: Speaking Up in the Storm
The nurse and the psych doc rose together, their hands intertwined, steadying one another as the room remained tense with silence.
The hospital manager nodded, allowing them to speak.
The nurse’s voice was steady, but her words carried the weight of grief. "Patient in Bed B is trapped in a system that failed her. She needs more than relocation. She needs care and protection."
The psyche doc stepped forward, his posture firm but open.
"This isn't just a hospital closing. It is a breaking point. We need to acknowledge that some staff, some patients, and many of us won’t walk away from this unchanged."
He scanned the auditorium, the weight in his chest tight.
"I will be available to all personnel for grievance counseling. If any of you need support or need guidance on how to process this, I’m here."
The nurses, the doctors, the techs’ faces looked worn, weary, and some already damp with tears listened with anxiety and silence. This was not just about where patients would go. It was about how all of them would survive this reality.
The psych doc tightened his grip on the nurse’s hand, then they sat back down, their presence unwavering.
The manager sighed, rubbing his temples before delivering the next blow.
"We’ve secured a hospital that is 100 miles from our city. That’s our destination."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
“A hundred miles.”
Every patient, every doctor, every nurse would be in an exodus into the unknown.
Chapter Twelve: The Impossible Distance
The hospital manager inhaled deeply, steadying himself before delivering the final blow.
"The relocation is set for Austin. 200 miles away."
A sharp wave of voices rose in response, nurses, doctors, and staff gripping the edges of their seats as the reality settled into their bones.
“Two hundred miles.
Eight floors.
No transportation plan.”
The nurse’s pulse pounded in her ears. "That’s impossible," she whispered, not realizing she had spoken aloud until the psych doc squeezed her hand.
"There are newborns on oxygen," a pediatrician murmured, his voice brittle. "There are post-surgical patients who can’t even sit upright for extended periods."
The best friend nurse, who had returned from the floors, clenched her jaw. "We’re the only medical facility for this entire region. If we close, this town loses everything."
The manager nodded, eyes weary, apologetic, but helpless.
"This isn’t just about us. It is about the border. Every patient who is an immigrant or citizen, insured or uninsured will be displaced. There will be no emergency care here. No prenatal services. No trauma units. Nothing."
The cafeteria had been tensing before, but now, the silence was suffocating.
The nurse felt her chest tighten, the cold realization settling in.
They were not just losing their jobs.
They were watching an entire community get erased.
Chapter Thirteen: The Darkest Order
A suffocating heaviness settled over the hospital felt thick like the storm clouds forming over the barren desert beyond its walls. The manager’s voice was low, resigned, his words dragging the entire staff into an abyss they were not prepared for.
"D.C. has extended the deadline. Seven days. But there’s a condition."
A pause.
"Mexican heritage patients cannot leave the town. Even if they’re dying."
The auditorium did not react loudly but instead became silent, as if the air had sucked from the room.
The nurse felt her psych doc stiffen beside her, his jaw clenched so tightly she worried he might break something. But neither of them spoke yet.
Instead, they turned and walked back to the gynecology floor, urgency pushing them forward.
The moment they arrived at the nurses’ station; the air was different. It was thick with terror, muted with mourning.
A fellow nurse stepped forward, eyes glassy, voice raw.
"Patient in Bed B, “She swallowed hard. "She…, her baby was stillborn. ICE took her."
The words did not register at once.
"They stood her up. Handcuffed her. Hauled her into their van along with 30 other patients."
"But she’s a citizen as most of them are!" the psyche doc snapped, his voice hoarse.
The nurse felt her pulse hammering in her ears.
"It didn’t matter. Twenty-eight people were citizens. Two were not. They took them all."
Outside the window, the streets roared with government vans, their engines growling like predators ready to devour anything in their path.
"Some were dying," the nurse whispered, her chest tightening.
"Some had miscarriages," another added, their voice barely above a breath.
"Some had newborns," someone else murmured, face hollow.
The babies were taken by ICE without their mothers and loaded into a second van. Their cries swallowed by the metallic doors slamming shut.
Chaos had swallowed the next seven days with whole families scrambling to flee, life-saving patients rushed to Austin. So many others were locked in place, abandoned, as if their lives had been considered expendable.
Chapter Fourteen: Departure into Uncertainty
The decision to leave had been made in whispers, stolen between fading sirens and government orders that reeked of finality.
The psych doc exhaled, checking his watch as the weight of leadership was settling in his bones.
"Most of my patients are being flown out, but they need supervision on the plane. I have to be with them."
The nurse nodded, her grip on his wrist lingering for half a second longer than usual.
"Then we’ll stay on the ground to manage the triage, keep the ambulances moving."
Her best friend, steady despite the chaos, rolled up her sleeves, her expression sharp with quiet determination.
"It’s going to be hell," she murmured.
"Then we move fast," the nurse answered. "We don’t leave a single patient behind."
As the transport teams called their names, their paths divided, the psyche doc heading for the airport, and the nurses climbing into emergency vehicles, with their ears tuned to rapid-fire medical codes over radios.
This was not just relocation.
This was survival.
Chapter Fifteen: The Journey Begins
The airport was quiet, unnervingly so. Only the hum of the transport plane, the shuffle of stretchers, and the soft murmur of the psych doc’s voice filled the tense space.
He knelt beside each patient, his tone gentle but firm.
"We’re heading to Austin. The staff there have been briefed and they’re waiting for us."
Their faces reflected exhaustion, fear, relief, uncertainty with each emotion flickering between moments of lucidity and quiet surrender.
"I’ll be with you the entire flight." His words landed like a promise; one he had no intention of breaking.
One by one, the patients were lifted onto the plane, secured in their seats, IVs stabilized, oxygen monitors checked.
And then the engines roared to life.
Across town, the nurses climbed into the ambulance, settling beside four critical care patients, their vitals closely monitored and watched as the engine rumbled beneath them.
The nurse exchanged a look with her best friend, a silent agreement with no distractions, only precision.
The wheels turned. The road stretched ahead.
As they left the border town behind, the reality of their escape settled in.
The hospitals they left behind were empty. The patients they could not take were abandoned. The future beyond this ride was unknown.
But for now, they have a mission.
Chapter Sixteen: Arrival & Resistance
The vans pulled into the hospital driveway, the weight of exhaustion pressing against every soul inside. The psych doc stepped out first, scanning the rows of waiting physicians, nurses, and techs.
They were not greeted with political speeches or sterile indifference, but they were met with care, Kindness, and Efficiency.
"Let’s get them inside."
The urgency was immediate as the critical care patients were wheeled in, oxygen levels were monitored and watched, and surgical interventions prioritized.
Floor by floor, life resumed, even if only for now.
The psych doc and two nurses, their bodies heavy from the journey, the losses, the unbearable truth of what they left behind, walked into hospital management’s office.
"You’re hired," the director said before they even spoke. "We need you. Now more than ever."
They did not celebrate.
They simply got to work.
Chapter Seventeen: Rebellion
The capital building loomed, sterile in its grandeur, a monument to a government that had decided kindness was a crime.
The psych doc and two nurses stood before the legislative floor, their voices steady, unwavering, even as security watched them like threats instead of healers.
"This isn’t politics. This is humanity."
Their words echoed, rippling through the chamber as the officials’ faces remained stone cold.
Then, the doors burst open.
FBI agents in black suits, weapons at their sides, marched forward, faces unreadable but full of orders they had already decided to follow.
"You are under arrest for violating federal orders and engaging in medical dissent."
Without hesitation, Metal cuffs snapped around their wrists.
The nurse breathed deeply, exhaling slowly, even as her best friend shook with rage.
They were not afraid.
They were exactly where they needed to be.
Epilogue: Echoes in Silence
The cell was silent, save for the hum of the overhead lights, buzzing faintly against the cold concrete walls.
The psych doc and the nurses sat side by side, their wrists raw from cuffs, their bodies drained but unbroken.
They were not alone. Across the city, across the country, resistance was quietly growing and hospitals still clinging to life, in whispered conversations between doctors and healers who refused to let medicine become a crime.
The world outside was shifting, but deep within the heart of Austin, three figures remained steadfast, as a quiet pulse of defiance beating beneath their skin.
They had not lost.
They were only beginning.
