Miracle Cure

Part 3

He walked out of his apartment in a daze. There were people everywhere, but they didn't see him and they registered as no more than background colour to him. Usually he wondered how people could live in such a state of distraction, but now he was one of them.

He stopped beside a woman at the side of the road. She had a double buggy with two small children and two small screens. While the mother's attention flitted back and forth between the various feeds on her glasses, the two children stared at their own feeds. They were so still that they might have been mannequins.

"Ninety seconds," the woman said.

He didn't know if she was speaking to him. Other people seemed to know the difference between physical and virtual communication, but he didn't. Perhaps there was an application that told people when they were being spoken to in the real world.

"The bus," she said. "Are you here for the bus?"

Spencer nodded. He didn't feel capable of actual speech.

"It'll be here in a minute," she said. Then her eyes glazed over and she was gone.

A minute later a white, pill-shaped object glided silently into view. The other vehicles slid seamlessly out of the way to let it stop in front of the woman. She wheeled her buggy onto a platform which lifted her inside.

Spencer climbed in after her and a display flashed red warning him that it hadn't been able to take payment. Usually Spencer preferred not to use privatised money, but the bus didn't accept anything else. He fished out his bank card and held it out to the reader. The display changed to green and wished him a pleasant day.

He walked past the dead eyed passengers, and found a seat at the back. He stared out the window as the grey world flashed past. Every time he managed to forget where he was going, the knot in his chest tightened and provided him with guilt to go along with the fear.

The journey took no time at all.

Inside the hospital Spencer found a dusty information kiosk and managed to work out where Alannah was being looked after.

There were two lines of traffic. A mixture of people standing on buggies, sitting in wheelchairs, and walking with the aid of exoskeletons. Spencer appeared to be the only one not clutching a branded drink and walking under his own steam.

A man wearing a lab coat was waiting for him outside the ward. He wasn't wearing glasses or contacts, but his eyes were an unnatural purple colour which suggested he had ocular implants. "Mr Spencer?" the man said.

"It's Cartwright," he said. "Spencer is my first name."

There was a momentary pause, buffering film, and then the doctor nodded. The exchange was challenging for him, he was used to getting information through wireless protocols. If it was anyone other than Spencer standing there, then he would have access to everything there was to know about him.

"And you are?" Spencer said, because the man didn't look as if he was going to introduce himself.

"Dr. McKee," he said. "We have her in a private room. It's this way."

Spencer followed him into a silent anti-chamber. Everything was grey, but no one saw it that way except him. For everyone else it would be overlaid with colourful images, highly tailored to their individual history.

"I suppose you've seen footage of the incident?" Dr. McKee said.

It hadn't occurred to him that footage would be available, although it probably should have done. It wasn't only the police who wore body cameras, everyone in the vicinity would have uploaded their recordings straight to CloudUs. If he wanted to, he could watch the whole thing from a thousand different angles.

"No," he said.

"It was a nasty business. A taxi A.I. failed apparently."

"Were other people hurt?"

"No."

The fact that no one else was going through this felt very lonely.

"We've done what we can to make her comfortable."

"Is she awake?"

Dr. McKee stopped. He wasn't used to delivering bad news. "She's not awake," he said. "The accident was quite traumatic."

Spencer didn't want to consider the possibility that Alannah was gone, but that seemed exactly what he was being asked to do.

"Shall we?" Dr. McKee said.

He nodded and followed the doctor through the door.

The room was dark, except for the lights blinking on the medical equipment. The only sound was the whisper-gasp of the pumps that allowed her to breath. Her body was at sharp angles and there were plastic tubes coming out of every orifice.

"I'll wait outside," Dr. McKee said. "When you've finished, there are some things we need to discuss."

Spencer heard the door close and reached for Alannah's hand. A thick needle pierced her pale skin. He squeezed gently but she didn't squeeze back.

"Alannah?"

He watched her face but she didn't react. Shelay with her eyes swollen closed and bruises blossoming across her cheeks. Hesqueezed her hand, bowed his head and allowed himself to cry.