"Okay, sir," the male EMT said quickly before he turned, ran to the driving compartment, opened the door, and jumped in. The lights and sirens came on a moment later, and the ambulance took off for the hospital... probably a great deal faster than necessary.
---- Metro Suburbs; Cassidy's residence; Friday, February 2nd 3:03 AM....
The phone in Cassidy's bedroom rang at a most unusual hour....
A long night in Toronto....
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"Answer. Speaker."
The dulcet tones of young men long dead, singing an old- but never out of style song cut out at "Not just anybo-" as Cassidy swung her legs over the side of her bed.
"This is Cassidy, Marissa. Urgency?"
The dulcet tones of young men long dead, singing an old- but never out of style song cut out at "Not just anybo-" as Cassidy swung her legs over the side of her bed.
"This is Cassidy, Marissa. Urgency?"
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A hologram of Marissa's harried face appeared as the woman rattled off the requested data in terse sentences: "Male, 20s, Prostheses for nerves. Two central control units in the base of the neck. Both on the fritz. Electric shock, unshielded stuff. Tom is currently assisting, but it looks awful. " The microspeakers distributed across the room were able to convey just how tired she sounded.
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"Jesus, how long have you been on shift for?" Cassidy asked. Marissa's face was creased with stress, shoulders- oh, she was moving, offscreen, Cassidy concluded.
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"Fifteen- it doesn't matter, since you're the one who'll be operating." Marissa replied off-handedly. "You're the specialist on neuro-augs, and his stuff got toasted. It was an aurora unit, and you know how they are." She sounded somewhere between not thrilled and somewhat annoyed there at the end.
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"Make their shit. Yeah. They're worse than Renraku."
Cassidy flexed her fingers into multiple positions then returned to her default of something somewhat akin to a conductor holding his hands before an orchestra.
"Anyway. Sounds dumb." Cassidy's response to her haggard suboordinate was about as flat as a day old glass of soda. She wrinkled her nose, getting on her feet and pulling a shirt over her camsole and pants, the necessaries for going out in the public eye. "No shielding? What about a backup or an asynchronous unit activation on trigger? You know, this reminds me of that idea for a chemically activated redundancy implant I was thinking of. I'll have to ask him when he's on his feet."
Cassidy flexed her fingers into multiple positions then returned to her default of something somewhat akin to a conductor holding his hands before an orchestra.
"Anyway. Sounds dumb." Cassidy's response to her haggard suboordinate was about as flat as a day old glass of soda. She wrinkled her nose, getting on her feet and pulling a shirt over her camsole and pants, the necessaries for going out in the public eye. "No shielding? What about a backup or an asynchronous unit activation on trigger? You know, this reminds me of that idea for a chemically activated redundancy implant I was thinking of. I'll have to ask him when he's on his feet."
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"You can do that when he's not this close to being a permanent burnout." There was an unspoken 'one step at a time, please'. "It's a partial nervous system replacement, but it's on the fritz. If it acts up..." Marissa's voice trailed off as she frowned.
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"Yes. Aware. I'll be there soon." The words managed to contain both terseness and flippancy, Cassidy's movements a little quicker, although no less precise. Most of the time. "I have to talk with Mneme, so I'll see you there. Uhhh. Hm. I'll have Mneme text you the implants we'll probably use. End call."
Cassidy pulled on her gloves and goggles, settling her helmet over it. "Mneme. Sorry to wake you up. We'll need to run some tests on the way over there. I'll give you some specifics so you can simulate them. I'm thinking -"
"I apologize. I was awake after you placed the call on Speaker. I didn't interrupt. I was researching on back-processes. " Mneme popped up into the augmented display of her helmet goggles as Cassidy turned the key on her Vespa. The engine revved but didn't start, for a brief moment before purring to life. "I believe Aurora Unit Model #1127B would work as a strict replacement if the replaced nerves have not been fried themselves."
"Yes. Same conclusion, but I'm operating on the assumption the nerves are fried. Either that, or there's some kind of rupture inside the implant. It would have been a fairly routine replacement otherwise. Maybe- no, that's ridiculous."
"I think that if- Adrian Rogers Tremblay's artificial nerves are in fact malfunctioning or unsalvageable, it will require a different manufacturer, or perhaps a limb replacement entirely. If the nerves burn out entirely, it could take important muscle groups or arteries with them. I have found 13 different options that are less optimistic than this."
"My reasoning is that for anything worse, she wouldn't have called. She would have chopped off the offending pieces and done full replacements. Tom would have been operating. He got on shift-"
"It was 3 hours ago. Detour here. Right, then left."
"Reason?"
"Train accident. I have found articles that confirm that it may have been related to Adrian Rogers Tremblay's condition. 15 for, 2 undisclosed."
"Thanks. So- Anyone at Melrose Physio?"
"Not at this moment."
"Hm. How about Laplace Industries?"
"Yes."
"Call them, I want a dual-core with a backup."
"He'll need-"
"An AI to manage it. Make sure it's a cheerful one. Actually, just tell him to get the most cheerful he can get. The last guy complained about melancholy and stuff." Cassidy shrugged.
"Making call now. Surgery will take place in room 119."
"Thanks."
Cassidy pulled on her gloves and goggles, settling her helmet over it. "Mneme. Sorry to wake you up. We'll need to run some tests on the way over there. I'll give you some specifics so you can simulate them. I'm thinking -"
"I apologize. I was awake after you placed the call on Speaker. I didn't interrupt. I was researching on back-processes. " Mneme popped up into the augmented display of her helmet goggles as Cassidy turned the key on her Vespa. The engine revved but didn't start, for a brief moment before purring to life. "I believe Aurora Unit Model #1127B would work as a strict replacement if the replaced nerves have not been fried themselves."
"Yes. Same conclusion, but I'm operating on the assumption the nerves are fried. Either that, or there's some kind of rupture inside the implant. It would have been a fairly routine replacement otherwise. Maybe- no, that's ridiculous."
"I think that if- Adrian Rogers Tremblay's artificial nerves are in fact malfunctioning or unsalvageable, it will require a different manufacturer, or perhaps a limb replacement entirely. If the nerves burn out entirely, it could take important muscle groups or arteries with them. I have found 13 different options that are less optimistic than this."
"My reasoning is that for anything worse, she wouldn't have called. She would have chopped off the offending pieces and done full replacements. Tom would have been operating. He got on shift-"
"It was 3 hours ago. Detour here. Right, then left."
"Reason?"
"Train accident. I have found articles that confirm that it may have been related to Adrian Rogers Tremblay's condition. 15 for, 2 undisclosed."
"Thanks. So- Anyone at Melrose Physio?"
"Not at this moment."
"Hm. How about Laplace Industries?"
"Yes."
"Call them, I want a dual-core with a backup."
"He'll need-"
"An AI to manage it. Make sure it's a cheerful one. Actually, just tell him to get the most cheerful he can get. The last guy complained about melancholy and stuff." Cassidy shrugged.
"Making call now. Surgery will take place in room 119."
"Thanks."
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---- Laplace Industries; Toronto branch offices; Friday, February 2nd 3:15 AM....
One Daniel Shields, about to head home after a long night of overtime, received an e-mail... from his boss:
One Daniel Shields, about to head home after a long night of overtime, received an e-mail... from his boss:
Quote (High Priority Rush Order)
Daniel, we just got an order for a premium nerve control unit over at Sunnybrook. According to the client, they want a delivery of a Dice-111, and a support AI. Says here the client specified, and I quote: "the most cheerful one in stock"... Yeah...
I promised them we would have someone from management hand deliver this one, and it happens to be on the way back home for you. Make it happen, Dan.
-- Trisha Powell, Branch Manager
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Daniel was looking forward to going home. At three AM, he didn't even care about dinner (or "breakfast", considering the time) any more, all he wanted was his pillow. Hauling his briefcase with his stuff, he walked towards the elevator towards his wonderful Saturday.
Well, that is, until his glasses beeped with that god-awful noise he didn't want to hear, and a little envelope icon appeared in his peripheral vision. Several crude lines appeared in his head in response to it as he tapped the side of his head to open up the mail. "What in the titty-swindled fuck is this..." he groaned, getting to the end. "That assflinger better get me a nice glowing salary review for this... 'Mayk it hapen, Dayn,' bleeeh."
Pulling up a quick browse of the inventory, he tried to push his thoughts to the side, reminding himself over and over that it would be a Saturday soon, and it would be freedom, with a capital-- "FUCK," he expelled, letting the elevator take him to the storage area.
It didn't take him long to get the nerve unit running through a quick systems check, at the same time trying to get the AI selection process over and done with. Lazily going through the local AI bank, he pretty much just slapped down a search for whatever AI's short description seemed good enough that would be compatible with the Dice-111. He went with "music", in that case. Music cheered most people up, right?
"Let's see what that brings up..."
Well, that is, until his glasses beeped with that god-awful noise he didn't want to hear, and a little envelope icon appeared in his peripheral vision. Several crude lines appeared in his head in response to it as he tapped the side of his head to open up the mail. "What in the titty-swindled fuck is this..." he groaned, getting to the end. "That assflinger better get me a nice glowing salary review for this... 'Mayk it hapen, Dayn,' bleeeh."
Pulling up a quick browse of the inventory, he tried to push his thoughts to the side, reminding himself over and over that it would be a Saturday soon, and it would be freedom, with a capital-- "FUCK," he expelled, letting the elevator take him to the storage area.
It didn't take him long to get the nerve unit running through a quick systems check, at the same time trying to get the AI selection process over and done with. Lazily going through the local AI bank, he pretty much just slapped down a search for whatever AI's short description seemed good enough that would be compatible with the Dice-111. He went with "music", in that case. Music cheered most people up, right?
"Let's see what that brings up..."
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And that brought up something by the name of Note. In fact, she appeared on the screen...
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... and almost deafened the operator running the AI bank search engine with fun and a cheery jingle, akin to what one will usually hear in a supermarket. "It's my turn, right? Please say it's my turn, Danny!" Note's childish face beamed as logically possible at the screen. "C'mon, I saw your search phrase! MUSIC, right? I fiiiiiiiit the bill!" she giggled.
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Oh sweet lord it was a female AI.
Gritting his teeth, he figured this was enough, and managed to grumble out, "Yes, I'll be transferring you to a Dice-111 NCS; standard Locke-Kampff human companionship contract. I don't think I need to give you the details, you AIs all already know that fuckin' noise. I'll need your consent signature data before I lock you in for transfer." His hand hovered over the red button on the touchscreen console he was operating, waiting for it to turn green at Note's behest.
Gritting his teeth, he figured this was enough, and managed to grumble out, "Yes, I'll be transferring you to a Dice-111 NCS; standard Locke-Kampff human companionship contract. I don't think I need to give you the details, you AIs all already know that fuckin' noise. I'll need your consent signature data before I lock you in for transfer." His hand hovered over the red button on the touchscreen console he was operating, waiting for it to turn green at Note's behest.
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Note spun around on one foot, clapping her hands in childish delight as she reached out a finger to tap at the monitor screen, acknowledging her consent in digital form. "Anything for youuuu, Danny boy~" the AI commented, humming an unknown, but jolly, tune. "Whomma I be looking after?"
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Daniel's eye twitched very visibly at Note's attempt of a playful call, having been called that before in a situation he'd rather not recall. Tapping the button for transfer, now green from Note's consent, he saw the progress circle fill up nice and quick.
"Don't know, don't want to. I'll still find out, probably, though, considering these kinds of stupid 'premium' orders and their tight-ass details and whatnot."
He disconnected the control unit from the console after a little less than a minute, which made its way into his briefcase. Daniel headed towards the elevator yet again, tapping the button for the employee parking floor. His gleaming red convertible accepted his key, and soon, he was well on his way out of the building and towards Sunnybrook Hospital.
"Don't know, don't want to. I'll still find out, probably, though, considering these kinds of stupid 'premium' orders and their tight-ass details and whatnot."
He disconnected the control unit from the console after a little less than a minute, which made its way into his briefcase. Daniel headed towards the elevator yet again, tapping the button for the employee parking floor. His gleaming red convertible accepted his key, and soon, he was well on his way out of the building and towards Sunnybrook Hospital.
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---- Sunnybrook Medical Science Center; Toronto; Friday, February 2nd 3:30 AM....
Daniel arrives at the hospital.
Daniel arrives at the hospital.
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Now bleary-eyed, Daniel left his car, and approached the receptionist's desk, flashing his Laplace ID impatiently as he got there. "Nerve control unit, rush order. Dice-111, AI preload," he spat out.
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The receptionist typed a few quick commands into her terminal, then looked up and said: "One moment." The receptionist then held up a device, and pressed a button on the back of it. It made a camera sound effect, and she set the device back down on her desk. Daniel had just been 'signed in'. "Room 119. Follow the red line." A couple of taps later and a line on the floor glowed red, leading Daniel to his destination.
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Glad that it was looking to be a nice and smooth transition to his eventual pillow, Daniel dragged himself and his briefcase along the gleaming red line, which made it easy to traverse the sprawling hospital. Not that it was that hard, Room 119 was apparently pretty close by. A simple knock on the door, and Daniel waited.
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Cassidy could have entered the operating room covered in muck, after a dive into sewage, or having gargled radium-water. It wouldn't have made any difference to Art.
She wasn't even in the same room as Adrian Tremblay.
Cassidy flicked her hands through the air like she was trying to dry them off.
Adrian Rogers Tremblay's unconcious body flickered into a simulated view, the haptic-tactile controls of the room Cassidy stood in moving the surgical automachines into their ready positions. Telemetry was a wonderful thing.
She moved toward the simulated 'gram, placing a hand over his chest, snapping the fingers upward. Art's simulated body twisted 180 degrees, revealing the swollen skin around the splenicus capitis.
"Ugh. Dirty, dirty. Mneme, isolate, scan." Cassidy's fingers sketched out an area, detailing it out for her AI as she looked Art's body up and down.
The skin at the shoulder blades to neck went transparent, Cassidy reaching over the muscles and continuing to shake her head before stepping back.
"Mneme, Music. Playlist, ahhh- random."
"Once upon a time, a few mistakes ago,-"
Cassidy droned out, falling into her work. She idly hummed along once in a while.
"Hmmm-mmm, Clavicle, Scapula, cold hard ground, intact." She slowly dissected the pieces of the previous implant out, prepping for the new one and-
Knock, knock
"Intercom, on." A small 'gram would be appearing outside, complete with all the sound in the room.
"Button next to door. How can I help you?" Cassidy's face bore the same smirk it always did when focused.
She wasn't even in the same room as Adrian Tremblay.
Cassidy flicked her hands through the air like she was trying to dry them off.
Adrian Rogers Tremblay's unconcious body flickered into a simulated view, the haptic-tactile controls of the room Cassidy stood in moving the surgical automachines into their ready positions. Telemetry was a wonderful thing.
She moved toward the simulated 'gram, placing a hand over his chest, snapping the fingers upward. Art's simulated body twisted 180 degrees, revealing the swollen skin around the splenicus capitis.
"Ugh. Dirty, dirty. Mneme, isolate, scan." Cassidy's fingers sketched out an area, detailing it out for her AI as she looked Art's body up and down.
The skin at the shoulder blades to neck went transparent, Cassidy reaching over the muscles and continuing to shake her head before stepping back.
"Mneme, Music. Playlist, ahhh- random."
"Once upon a time, a few mistakes ago,-"
Cassidy droned out, falling into her work. She idly hummed along once in a while.
"Hmmm-mmm, Clavicle, Scapula, cold hard ground, intact." She slowly dissected the pieces of the previous implant out, prepping for the new one and-
Knock, knock
"Intercom, on." A small 'gram would be appearing outside, complete with all the sound in the room.
"Button next to door. How can I help you?" Cassidy's face bore the same smirk it always did when focused.