PSL - To give better title later.

The shriek ringing through the clinic demanded an urgency that one Ozaki Toshio just couldn't seem to muster. That probably made it a good thing it was inorganic, or he'd have been even more disqualified from calling himself a doctor than he had felt at the time. Hell, the doctor himself was feeling less and less organic, more and more mechanical. It was probably that mechanical element that had him answering the phone; the human, meaty part of his brain saw no logic in answering that phone, no benefit. Another death notice, maybe? Another failure? Another missing person? Another problem he couldn't solve? But on the most basic, lower-brain level, a person answered a ringing phone. So it was off of the receiver before he could think better of it.

Staring into the mouthpiece, he had to suddenly awaken from his autopilot haze to realize he'd picked it up. He had to consciously remember the next step. What did one do with a phone? Right, right. They spoke.

"Ozaki Clinic," he answered, after that unnatural pause, itself coming after an unnaturally long ring that might have left the caller about as surprised at Ozaki picking up as he was at himself for doing so.