After the door to the patient's room closed, a man bowed deeply before Zephyr, gratitude evident in his eyes.
Zephyr, still clad in his white coat with a nameplate gleaming on his chest, offered a weary smile.
"No need to thank me, Mr. Smith. It's my duty as a doctor," he replied modestly, "Your brother just needs rest for the next three days, and then he should be able to leave the hospital."
Mr. Smith nodded, clearly relieved.
Zephyr was accustomed to expressions of thanks like these.
He was, after all, one of the country's finest doctors, known not only for his skill but for his dedication.
At twenty-six, Zephyr had an unassuming appearance that belied his reputation.
Slightly unkempt chestnut hair often fell into his hazel eyes, lending him a thoughtful, almost scholarly look.
His complexion bore faint traces of late nights and long hours, with shadows under his eyes as if to testify to countless nights spent at the hospital.
He wasn't conventionally handsome, but his genuine smile and gentle demeanor made him approachable, comforting even.
Patients found him trustworthy; he carried an aura of quiet confidence.
In the background of his mind, an emotionless voice always hummed, an incessant reminder of the technology that accompanied him since the start of his medical training.
[ Zephyr, your heart rate is elevated. Consider employing breathing techniques to maintain optimal performance. ]
"Thanks, Aegis, but no thanks" he muttered, accustomed to the cold, analytical responses from the Advantage A.I. that had been integrated into his consciousness during his studies.
This is 2369, where everyone had transplanted a nanochip known as Aegis (Advantage Enhanced Guidance and Information System) in their brains to enhance cognitive functions, streamline decision-making, and provide real-time data analysis.
The A.I. had become an essential part of everyday life, a silent partner in every profession, but for Zephyr, it was both a blessing and a burden.
Aegis was designed to optimize performance and reduce errors, continuously monitoring vital signs and cognitive load.
It could analyze vast amounts of information in seconds, making it an invaluable tool in the high-pressure world of medicine.
Yet, the emotionless and indifferent nature of Aegis often grated on him.
There was something unsettling about being so closely linked to a machine that evaluated his every thought and feeling with clinical detachment.
[ Your fatigue levels are at 85%. Recommend implementing a short rest period before proceeding with additional tasks. ] Aegis suggested, its voice devoid of concern or compassion.
Zephyr shook his head, determined to push through. "I'll rest when I'm done," he replied, typing furiously.
[ Efficiency dictates a focused mind. You are under stress due to workload. Analyzing past performance indicates you require rest. ]
Zephyr shrugged off the voice's advice, used to its clinical observations.
Returning to his office, he shrugged off his white coat and sank into the chair behind his desk.
The digital clock in the corner of his computer screen read 10:30 PM.
It had been a grueling day. His last patient had been someone important — important enough that Zephyr had taken on the case himself, despite having already worked for ten straight hours.
He rubbed his temples, hoping to finish his paperwork quickly so he could finally head home.
Just as he began typing, his secretary, Alice, entered the office, her expression serious. Zephyr frowned.
Alice was not one to interrupt without knocking unless the matter was urgent.
She carried a stack of paper files, which she set down on his desk with a soft thud.
He noticed the topmost file, emblazoned with bold letters: "EMERGENCY PATIENT!"
Zephyr opened the file and scanned the details.
"Around 10 o'clock tonight, a woman was brought in by ambulance," Alice reported. "She's middle-aged, hit by a drunk driver while crossing the road. Her condition is critical. We managed to stop the bleeding, but she's suffered extensive internal injuries. Surgery is underway to repair the damage."
Zephyr's brows furrowed as he continued reading the report.
"What are her chances?" he asked, glancing up.
Alice hesitated, her tone heavy. "They're not good, Doctor… it's touch and go."
[ Alert: Probability of patient survival is at 12%. Recommend prioritizing resources accordingly. ]
Zephyr sighed, feeling the weight of the situation settle on his shoulders. "Prepare operating room three. I'll be there shortly."
Alice nodded, disappearing down the hallway while Zephyr donned his coat once more and headed toward the operating theater.
Two nurses stood waiting for him at the entrance.
Inside, he scrubbed his hands, donned a mask and gloves, and prepared himself mentally for the grueling hours ahead.
The operation was a battle that stretched into the early hours.
By the time they had finally stabilized the patient, it was close to dawn.
Although he had managed to save her life, the cost was high.
The woman had lost both legs below the knee and had suffered a severe brain hemorrhage.
Her odds of waking up were close to none. Zephyr looked at the unconscious figure on the table and felt a pang of helplessness.
He had done all he could, yet the fragility of life still struck him like a blow.
He completed the necessary post-operation tasks and checked on her condition one last time before leaving the theater.
A faint light was breaking over the horizon when he returned to his office, exhaustion seeping into his bones.
He glanced out the window, watching as the world outside slowly brightened.
Finally, Zephyr made his way to the parking lot.
He had barely reached his car when a deafening sound split the silence.
Whipping around, he saw a truck barreling toward him, its driver struggling to control it.
Beeeeeep~~
The horn blared as the vehicle careened forward, and in that split second, Zephyr knew there was no escaping it.
[ Warning: Immediate evasive action is advised. It is recommended to move aside as fast as possible! ]
But,
Baam! Thud—
It was too late!
The impact sent him flying like a ragdoll, his body crashing into the hospital wall with a sickening thud.
He felt his bones shatter, and blood filled his mouth.
Numbness slowly spread through his lower body, and darkness crept into the edges of his vision.
As a doctor, how could he not understand?
He was dying; he knew it in the marrow of his bones.
He could hear muffled voices, indistinct and distant, and saw people rushing toward him, their faces blurred.
As his vision faded, he felt an icy chill seeping through him, stealing away any warmth.
[ Warning: Critical life signs detected. Immediate medical attention required. ]
He could barely process the voice of Aegis echoing in his mind, its tone as indifferent as ever.
"Is this how I die? Is this the end?" Zephyr thought, despair flooding his consciousness.
[ Analysis complete: Probability of survival is less than 1%. Recommend preparing for imminent termination of biological functions. ]
Panic welled within him, but his body refused to respond.
As darkness slowly engulfed his vision, Zephyr felt regretful that he wouldn't be able to see his family again.
Ah! How unfortunate, what a short life I lived... I wish I could have lived a little longer...
Unbelievable, departing the world without ever having been put to use… my dear 'son' must be gone right now….
Alice always joked about how she would destroy my hard drive to protect my data if something happened to me.... I hope she will completely wipe the data clean….
And then, everything went dark.
In the silent abyss that followed, Aegis remained as an indifferent observer, its presence a stark reminder of the life Zephyr had led, now flickering away like a dying light.
[ Subject terminated. Commencing shutdown of organic functions. Reminder: A life unfulfilled leads to nothing but data loss. ]
And with that final thought, Zephyr's existence faded into nothingness, leaving only silence in the aftermath.