Story Time Quarterly Blog Hop: The Implant Caregiver

This is a story blog hop. At the end, below, you will find a list of other short speculative fictions available for you! 

Enjoy!

As a glowing red light switches to green on her wrist and forearm, the red metallic door unlocks to let her in, then clicks behind her. A smell of lasagna reminds her she will have to get dinner ready in an hour. She wished she had some at lunch too: the government only offers sandwiches, raw vegetables, fruits, and a bag of cookies for their meal break.

- Hello, Mr. Gouls! She announces.

- In the back, as usual. I’m still alive, says a weak rusty voice in the microphone beside Nelly’s head.

LEDs on the floor along the white and grey metallic walls guide her to the client’s room. The man with a scar on his left cheek sits in his chair wearing a blue bandage on his forehead. It hides half of his face. His army background and his cynicism remind her of her old uncle, who recently left forever. A switch to work mode lights in her mind. It happens all the time. She needs to be careful or she will lose her job.

Nelly almost stumbles on a bouquet of seven pink roses mixed with leafy foliages in a beautiful blue vase on the white table right beside the door. “I’m so sorry. I should pay attention when I am in a rush.” She hangs her winter coat on the wall hook that used to hold a painting. It is only temporary, for the time of Nelly's visits.

Right after the implant’s grafting, she changed the usage of some things, like this hook. Now, she checks on him, how his body agrees with the implant. It will take some time for the ocular implant to take, and it is sensitive to stress and infections when it is so close to the brain.

She checks the imported notes on her tablet:

- It is healing well. Connections merge slowly. 

She holds a smile: "Good for you!"

- I don’t feel it that much.

She washes her hands, takes a pair of gloves from the box near the bag full of equipment, then removes the tapes and the dressing:

- Can you believe it? Some things never change. 

She already regrets her impulsive question.

- What do you mean?

- Anxiety and hurry to heal fast. Although we use all this advanced technology, the human body still needs time and care from experienced hands and human eyes to confirm what AI perceives. 

A buzz in her head. She has to stop this conversation. Quick. Too personal.

- Yes, do you remember when we were worried about artificial intelligence? I worked on the project to make it accurate and respectful of who we are.

- Interesting! So you are one of those very important pioneers in that field of study.

He nods, stoic, watching her putting everything back to its place in the box. Her head hurts. She turns at him.

- For you, who are we? 

The chat captivates her, but her head…that buzzer hurts. She will have a migraine if this goes on. She can't wait to end her workday.

- We have emotions and feelings. Even ethic is not always logical. I contributed to these aspects.

- Do you remember this movie where AI bodies could’t kill humans... A classic in the genre. Probably prophetic. 

Ok. Better if she turns her thoughts to other ideas.

- Yes. Indeed... prophetic. Who knew?

She checks if the ocular implant gets synchronized.

- Open your eyes; look to the left… Right. Follow my finger. Touch your nose.

The man shows signs of fatigue. He yawns, pale. On the tablet, she checks when the man had had his last dose of painkiller.

- I see you have little pain. Last meds for pain were yesterday.

- I hate these. They make me tired. When will I get back to training?

- Once your eyes get in sync with each other, you will feel more in control of your energy. Your brain will know when to resume your training. You can trust the process, sir. You will see. 

- I wished it went faster… His leg shaking as if he was nervous.

- You, Soldiers, missing your daily dose of intense training, hey? Here: I want you to press this button when synchronization happens, she says, pointing beside his temple. It’s coming anytime if you relax.

She sends notes to his medical file, then leaves, promising she'll come back tomorrow. Outside, a small smart boxy vehicle identified as the government’s health care services waits to bring her back home.She dictates more remarks related to the last call, then hits “Day completed” on her tablet. “Let’s go home, now! My children have to be in front of my house plus or minus 2 minutes of my arrival,” she says in a firm tone. 

On her way, she notices the smell of the new disinfectant. The indoors self cleans while waiting for her, or does other transports, the self disinfects in between. She smiles at the flowery Freesia perfume. The sun still present warms her face through the tainted glass. Her neighbourhood is not as classy as the one where she spent her day. Developers renovated these older apartment buildings, which once housed older citizens in the mid-century, for families. The car with her children stops behind hers.

As she checks in with her wrist, the door opens. The youngest one cries his lungs out while the car calls: “Your mom is coming. Calm down.” Alternating with a calming music, which has the opposite effects. 

Picking up and kissing the crying one, and helping the other two out, the family gets to the main door leading to their apartment. Once in, no more crying. Everyone gets undressed and go play.

She stores her brain implant in its box and sights deeply: the day is over. She can regain control of her mind peacefully. Apart from a chip on the wrist, nothing connects her anymore to the global database. She can live freely until tomorrow.

---The author uses Prowriting Aid's AI to edit the final version.

Now, go read my friends' stories:

Doomed … or Not? by Katharina Gerlach

The Reaper's Gift by Becky Sasala 

Knot Quite by Barbara Lund 

The Collector by T. R. Neff

Adventures in Space on with Doot the Pig by Gina Fabio