Chapter 66: The Medical Package is a Product
The hallway was a sterile tunnel of cool-toned silvers and grays, oppressive and dim. From the ceiling above came the rhythmic drip... drip... drip... of a leak.
Inside a stark white hospital room, a doctor, chromed in silver-white plating with glowing orange optics and a medical mask, was speaking. Beside him stood a medical support bot, its screen-face displaying the patient's vitals in a jumble of text and graphs.
On the bed, Gloria lay unconscious, a respirator covering her face. A data cable snaked from her wrist port, connecting her to a massive diagnostic machine bristling with thick black wires.
"Ms. Martinez's injuries from the crash are not life-threatening," the doctor, who looked more robotic than the actual robot, intoned. "What's keeping her unconscious is chronic, long-term fatigue. It appears she hasn't had proper rest in... possibly years."
"Furthermore, she has failed to adhere to civic guidelines regarding organ replacement and has not undergone scheduled toxicity purges. This is the primary reason for her current comatose state."
"In short, the car crash was simply the final straw that caused her internal systems to revolt. It's frankly astonishing she was able to maintain such a high-intensity work schedule with her heart and nervous system in this level of decay. What could possibly drive a person to do this?"
David swallowed hard, his eyes filling with tears. "What do we do? Please, you have to save my mom!"
"Don't worry, Mr. Martinez," the doctor said, a synthetic smile appearing. "First, we will replace her failing organs."
As he spoke, the medical bot's screen changed, displaying a catalog of options. Organs. All kinds of cybernetic replacements. There were organic options too, but the good ones... they were somehow even more expensive than the chrome.
What's the point? Poor people could never afford them, and rich people wouldn't be caught dead in a regional clinic like this. Night City's black market was flooded with harvested organs, thanks to gangs like the Scavengers who stripped every last eddie of value from their victims. A ripperdoc's clinic was full of discarded meat. Where did it all end up? Places like this.
And the cheapest option on the screen was fifty-four thousand eddies. Was the hospital just running a scam, hoping to hook one desperate sucker at a time?
"This will ensure her body returns to normal function and doesn't continue to degrade under high-load conditions. Following that, some basic trauma care. As I said, Ms. Martinez's condition is not complicated to treat."
The doctor looked at David. "So, which medical package will you be purchasing today?"
"I... I..." David stammered. He had a few hundred eddies to his name. He couldn't afford any of this.
His desperate gaze fell on Rhys.
Rhys saw the plea in the kid's eyes and nodded. He was about to transfer the eddies. Call it an investment in Night City's future legend.
But another voice cut in. "I'll cover it. Put it on my tab," Maine said.
Rhys and David both looked over. Maine was leaning against the doorframe, his massive hand on the metal. He hooked his sunglasses with a finger, pulling them down slightly. "Your mom and I had a business deal. If it wasn't for this accident, we would've closed it in a day or two. Just consider this an advance payment."
"Thank you, Maine... thank you," David said, his voice thick with gratitude.
Rhys shrugged and let Maine handle it.
"Eighty thousand..." David's agent pinged with the transfer. He stared at the amount.
"Get her a good package," Maine said, giving David a wink.
David nodded, turning back to the doctor. "I'll take the eighty-thousand eddie 'C-Package'."
"An excellent choice, Mr. Martinez. Thank you for your trust. Please authorize the payment here." The doctor's smile seemed more sincere this time. He even gave David a slight bow as the medical bot displayed the payment interface.
David immediately transferred the full amount.
"Wonderful. Now, Mr. Martinez, I'll just need you to sign this waiver," the doctor said.
David looked at the datapad. It was filled with dense, unreadable text. Rhys leaned in to look, too. He could summarize the entire thing in one word: bullshit. The C-Package waiver explicitly stated that the hospital was not liable for any complications, "accidents," or death during surgery. Any disputes could be taken up with the relevant... non-existent... authorities.
This wasn't healthcare. It was a transaction. Have a problem? File a complaint. And who would a poor kid from Santo Domingo complain to? The NCPD? They were all in the corps' pockets anyway.
David had no choice. He signed.
"We will begin prepping Ms. Martinez for surgery immediately," the doctor said. "Please wait outside. We will notify you when the procedure is complete."
They were ushered out of the room. As they waited in the cold hallway, the doctor wheeled Gloria's gurney past them toward the operating theater, the medical bot gliding silently behind.
A moment later, two heavy security bots rolled up and took positions at the end of the hall, their red optical sensors fixed on the crew.
"What the hell is this?" Maine, who'd never spent much time in hospitals, growled.
Sasha, who knew the system, replied calmly, "They're here to watch us. Make sure we don't cause trouble."
"What if we'd bought the A-Package?" Dorio mused.
"Then we'd be in a luxury lounge right now," Sasha said, blowing a bubble with her gum. "We'd probably even have the option to watch the surgery. And if anything went wrong, the hospital would be paying us a massive settlement."
She popped the bubble. "Don't worry too much. If Gloria's condition was really critical, he wouldn't have been so confident in selling the package. He'd be afraid of getting recorded. They use vague language when the outcome's not certain."
"Besides," Sasha said, her eyes narrowing as she looked past the bots, "we have bigger problems."
At the same instant, the entire crew tensed, standing up as one. David, confused, stood up with them.
At the far end of the fourth-floor corridor, the stairwell door opened. A man in a cowboy hat emerged, flanked by five 6th Street gangers.
Reiner was with them.
"Rhys," Sasha said, her voice low. "You've got company."
Rhys looked over, a grimace on his face. So annoying... He knew this was 6th Street turf, knew they'd be found eventually, but... this fast? It hadn't even been an hour since the warehouse.
Looks like my new rep isn't as big as I thought.