Striport - pre-Corruption
Beep beep beep beep
On and on it went. Until the beating began. Something firm yet soft was smashed into his body over and over, with increasing force.
"Alright, Jess. Will you knock it off."
A sleepy voice grumbled as a hand reached out to silence the alarm clock. The pillow turned bludgeoning weapon ceased its assault.
"You know I can't stand that awful sound, Harlyk."
"Yes, darling."
He had learned after 10 years of marriage that sometimes it was best to just nod your head and agree. But Harlyk Von Cercher wasn't a morning guy, and Jess knew that, so she didn't flip him too much grief over it. She gave him a little peck on the cheek as he got up for work, then pulled the covers securely over herself and went back to sleep.
How he envied her later start times, but BioCorp didn't sleep. It had taken a few years of seniority building to work his way off the graveyard shift. He always showed up on time, did his job to the best of his abilities, and went home. Didn't cause any ruckus and kept his head down. That eventually earned him a spot on the highly coveted day shift, which was also the height of his ambitions.
Harlyk was happy to go to work, bring home a paycheque and all that. But he lived for his family, not his job. He had a beautiful wife and a son, Kace. 6 years old this year and as sharp as a tack.
They were planning for another kid, too. Jess was just waiting for Harlyk to get on dayshift, which would make raising another child easier for them. They had learned the hard way with Kace. That dynamic may work for some families but not theirs. But the time had come. He was a dayshifter now.
Harlyk was finishing breakfast when Jess shuffled downstairs in a highly unflattering pink fluffy robe and outrageously fuzzy slippers—her favourite morning garb. She only had one eye open, too tired to open the other. And she was even less of a morning person than he was.
Jess walked over to the coffee station. Sensing her presence, the interface display popped up, she made her selections, and placed mugs underneath, all without opening the other eye. After dispensing two cups of coffee, she brought one to Harlyk as she sat in the chair across from him, sniffing her cup as if the aroma alone would give her life. He skipped the sniffing and went straight for the shot, drinking the piping-hot liquid down impressively fast.
"Mmm delicious, dear. What did you do different?"
"Made with extra love."
The coffee was always the same. She knew it, he knew it. But it was a thing they said. An I love you, just with different words.
After cleaning up breakfast, he went into Kace’s room to wake him up for school and say goodbye for the day.
“Up and at ‘em. Time to get up.”
When the lump in the mattress groaned but made no other signs of being alive, Harlyk swept into the room.
“Jess, Kace has disappeared.”
“Oh no.”
Jess replied in an extremely dry tone—really not a morning person.
“Well, I guess I’m going to have to sit right here and think about where he could have disappeared to.”
Harlyk used a playful tone, one used with kids when pretending you didn’t know where the kid was hiding, even though you knew where the kid was hiding. He lowered himself onto the bed, carefully squishing the lump.
The bed began giggling.
“Dad! Dad! Get up, you’re turning me into a pancake.”
“Jess, come quick! The bed can talk.”
Harlyk shouted in fake alarm. More laughing followed. Then he started shaking the mattress—gently, it should be added.
“Earthquake struck Striport today. All little boys were tossed out of their beds with the ferocity of the natural disaster.”
That got Kace out of bed. He tried to give Harlyk an angry look but struggled to keep the grin off his face.
"Have a good day at school. Learn something new today and teach me about it tonight, kay?"
“Okay!”
“Love you, Kace.”
“Love you too, Dad!”
The little boy gave Harlyk a big hug. He squeezed his son tightly, lifted him, and launched him back onto the bed. Joy-filled giggles followed him to the front door, where he found his incredible wife waiting to say goodbye.
“Have a good day, my love.”
“Thank you. I hope you have a phenomenal day.”
He hooked his arm behind Jess’ back and pulled her close.
“I love you.”
He whispered just for her as he kissed her.
“Blehk! You guys are groooss.”
Harlyk closed his eyes and rested his forehead against his wife’s in exasperation. Then chuckled and held an arm out wide, inviting Kace in for a group hug. The boy dashed into his parents' embrace.
Family. This is what he did it for—what made every day worth it.
Harlyk walked to the nearest CLR station, waiting for the 7 o'clock train. The platform was crowded with morning commuters all vying for the coveted space on the next train. Black and tan trench coats chaotically queued up as far as the eye could see.
Most of the trench coaters wore glasses known as Insights. The mobile communicator of the future. The waiting passengers checked the news or caught up on messages, all through eye tracking and voice control. There were a variety of devices on the market. Still, the glasses were the most convenient—someone had also invented a contact lens version, which freaked Harlyk out.
The glasses industry was smart. A few years back—20 or so—some ophthalmologist guy had a breakthrough, and the days of poor eyesight were gone. Harlyk didn’t understand the finer points, but whereas once people had to wear corrective lenses or get surgery to fix failing sight, now, they were born with perfect vision that did not degrade over the span of a lifetime. With the big discovery came the revelation that glasses would become obsolete in due time, as those born before the discovery, in the era of bad eyesight, died off.
Who would care about the dying glasses industry, though? Someone smart who saw an opportunity to buy a cheap monopoly and turn it into something relevant. Of course, glasses with forms of smart technology existed, there were just limitations in their functionality. Until there weren’t. David Aslow had money, though. Enough to be BioCorp's primary benefactor and, thus, hire the best of the best to create eyewear that would ultimately replace handheld devices. And it worked. You’d be hard-pressed to find someone in Triahkel who didn’t own a pair of Insights.
The train pulled up with a flashing advertisement for the new Insight 2000. Harlyk had a pair of the older model, but he didn’t live with the damn things on like most people seemed to. He was just a security guard. He didn’t have business meetings to coordinate or important messages to return. Maybe if he did, he would live in his Insights, too.
A hiss of air, and the door slid open. People pushed and shoved their way onto the railcar. It was one of the few places in the city where personal space was a concept in theory but not practice. He reached over someone’s head to grab the handrails—good hygiene was appreciated on the CLR, where you often got an armpit to the face.
The stop took all of a minute, maybe less, and then the train was shooting down the rail. He looked out the window as they travelled at deadly speeds high above Striport. The city spread before him, and from this height, he could see most of it, at least the parts not obscured by giant buildings.
A large dome encased the city—a voltage barrier. Metal and glass towers rose hundreds of metres high. Apartment buildings stretching 13-plus floors and lining the entire length of some streets. It would feel very claustrophobic at ground level if not for the wide streets and sidewalks. Over decades, they had been widened to accommodate the integration of bots everywhere, and the additional traffic and pedestrian crowding caused as a result.
Beyond the barrier lay field after field of crops—the primary export of Striport— and BioCorp. The train slowed to a stop, and he moved with the flow of people headed to the facility. It employed over 3,000 citizens, which was incredible since the job market was more than halved after bot entered it. BioCorp paid well, gave guaranteed time off, and was a good place to work overall. Top 10 in Triahkel.
The CLR only ran within the confines of the voltage barrier, so train commuters had to walk out of the city the rest of the way to the hospital. BioCorp had been built near an entrance, so once you made it through the gate, it was a 5-minute walk at most.
The fresh spring rains of the previous day gave way to the sun. The air was growing heavy, the warmth and moisture making it humid. But it was still an enjoyable stroll.
He looked up at the massive facility as he drew closer. A giant, slightly off-white building stretched before him, with evenly spaced windows lining each of the three floors. The hospital looked large, but that was deceptive. It was actually far bigger. The front doors stood in stark contrast to the rest of the building. They were huge. Rich brown wood covered in ornamental carvings. BioCorp was supposedly built from a smaller, much older hospital the company bought out when it was first started, and the door featured a small placard explaining that it was part of the original historic building.
Beyond the enormous doors was a flutter of activity. People waiting in line at the information desk. Nervous faces, sitting in chairs, waiting to be called or escorted to the room they were visiting. Multiple security stations. One for the medical wings, another for the research wings, and a final one for questions, reporting, lost and found, or what have you, all queued with people impatiently waiting for the guard on duty to assist them.
So much movement meant Harlyk constantly kept his head on a swivel. He mentally documented his surroundings as he made his way to the research wing security desk.
“Morning, Kreg.”
“Mornin’ Harlyk. How’re you doing?”
“Definitely can't complain. Hows about yourself?”
“I'm dying to get some shut eye. Bad sleeps these past few nights. How long till your shift starts?”
Kreg’s eyes were bloodshot, and he could barely keep them open.
“Sorry to hear that. How about I clock in a little early and you check upstairs, see if they’ll give you anything for sleep.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Harlyk. I owe ya one.”
“Don’t mention it. Go get some rest.”
He clapped Kreg on the back as he took over at the research wing security desk. And so another day at BioCorp began.
The scanner's beam travelled the person's length, then trilled.
“Come on in, Matix.”
“Thanks, Harlyk.”
Security measures got tighter the deeper into the research wings you went, but it was just a body scan and ID check at the entrance. He had heard rumours that further in a blood sample was required to access specific halls. Security became significantly tighter after an incident where a diehard BioCorp resistor had slipped by guards and wreaked havoc in an attempt to bring the company to ruin. Needless to say, security was ramped up considerably after that.
He’d heard most of the arguments and seen the protestors, but Harlyk didn’t really care about the politics of it all. Not in the same way others did. The cheque he made let him feed his family. That’s what was important. Who cares if they were customizing babies or monopolizing the glasses industry? They did far more good than harm, and that was the entirety of his opinion on the matter.
Hospital security was running short-staffed at the moment for various reasons ranging from maternity leave to a guard being fired for helping himself to pick-me-ups from the medicine lock-up, which was how Harlyk ended up on desk duty for the first few hours of his shift.
“Susan, good morning.”
Harlyk made a point of remembering names and faces. Not only did it make security easier when he knew the people instead of relying on the ID check, but it also made the day generally more pleasant.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
The woman, Susan, handed over her ID and stood still for the scan.
“Good morning, Harlyk. How’s Jess doing?”
“She’s good, thanks for asking.”
“Are you all going to the BBQ this weekend?”
“We plan to!”
Kace loved the company events. BioCorp always went all out on games and activities for all ages. It was like a private festival, with tons of kids for him to play with.
“Fantastic, I’ll see you there.”
The scan was clear, and the identification screen confirmed what he already knew. The kindly woman, 43 years of age, short, with chestnut-coloured hair and gentle light blue eyes, was, in fact, Research Ward Nurse Susan Brimley.
“You can head in. Have a good day.”
“Thank you, Harlyk.”
She disappeared into the research wing.
When the morning traffic flow ended, another guard took over the desk so Harlyk could do his rounds.
Rarely a day went by that something exciting—a relative term in this case—didn’t happen. That wasn't to say his job was easy. Hospitals were full of all sorts of people. Especially a hospital as equipped as this one.
Some days were hard, like when he had to guard a convicted criminal who was brought to BioCorp for medical care. Harlyk hadn’t wanted to be the one to ensure the Trailside Butcher was safe from angry citizens seeking vigilante justice. But he had to, and he had to do it with compassion for the patient.
Other days were terrifying. There was nothing quite like the heart-pounding fear of reasoning with a suicidal patient. Trying with all your might to coax them off the roof and back to their room. A life hanging in the balance.
Security guards need to be vigilant and have charisma. He wasn’t just protecting a building and research. He was guarding thousands of individual lives from internal and external dangers. And he took that seriously.
His rounds carried him by one of the many cafe stations in the facility, where he picked up coffee and a tea for Arthur. It was almost time for first break, and he kept to a routine.
Left down the hall, Harlyk took his usual route. As he walked down brightly lit hallways, he paused outside room 271. He was in the EOL department. End-of-life care.
There were multiple choices for the terminally ill depending on the level of care necessary and the patient's preference, obviously. Caregiver bots or in-home nurses were a popular option for those wanting a comfortable, familiar environment in their last days or individuals desiring to live as close to a normal life as possible. Others, especially those with little family, chose hospice facilities for the sense of community, no matter how glum that community may be. Knowing others going through similar experiences was encouraging in its way.
The final of the most popular choices was BioCorp. Facilities offered all-inclusive room and board as well as other amenities for end-of-lifers willing to donate their bodies to medical research. While still alive. Again, the line of ethical boundaries blurred and the protesters raged.
Over the years, the security guard had developed special bonds with some of the patients, especially the long-term ones, and he made it a point to stop by and visit whenever he could. Today was no exception. The guard knocked on the door and entered the room with a warm smile on his face.
The patient's face lit up as he saw his friend.
“Hey, Arthur.”
Harlyk passed him the tea he’d been carrying.
“Suprised they even let me drink this anymore.”
The man nodded in greeting and thanks and savoured his first sip.
Harlyk pulled up a chair, sitting next to Arthur. His coffee wasn’t nearly as good as the coffee Jess makes. Still, it was the sociable gesture of coffee drinking he was engaging in, not the drink itself.
The two enjoyed their drinks and a little peace as the news was projected quietly on the wall.
BioCorp’s hospital rooms were unlike any other. The face of the hospital was imposing, as was much of the interior. Shining whites and polished, nearly invisible glass—protective voltage-style barriers helped keep birds from calamity. Besides the company sign, the building was outwardly clinical in every sense of the word. You could see it was at the head of scientific innovation just by looking at it.
The land behind BioCorp was greenbelt. Owned by the company but left undisturbed. It served as the serenity view, a highly advertised benefit of choosing BioCorp for your healthcare needs. The EOL rooms had amazing views of the forested area beyond, a guaranteed perk for those terminals who agreed to donate their living body. You could even catch rare sightings of the new biomech animals that roamed the area.
As in all rooms, the hospital bed was equipped with high-tech sensors that monitored the patient’s vital signs without many of the cords and wires the lower end—and more affordable—hospitals still had to use. A user interface could be called down from the ceiling to hover above the bed, allowing the patient to control various aspects of the room with a simple touch or voice command.
Want to feel like you’re vacationing on the beach—not that anyone goes to the beach anymore, the ocean was too dangerous—just select the beach mode. The glass window and white marble-like walls would transform into calm ocean views with endless white-gold sand. Waves lazily lapping the shore. The room even heated up, simulating a warm summer day—temperature access was restricted for some patients who were more sensitive to such things. Beach mode was just one of the many options. The patient could even build custom themes for an extra fee—an easy cash cow for BioCorp.
The room was also equipped with a state-of-the-art medical robot that could administer medication and perform routine check-ups, which mainly consisted of assuring the bed-recorded vital signs matched their own data. The bot didn’t replace orderlies, nurses, or other medical personnel; rather, they assisted nurses.
Nurses, among other duties, were responsible for giving patient care instructions to the bots and making sure they were correctly executed. BioCorp was adamant about not replacing real people's jobs with bots. However, they still wanted to incorporate technologies their company played a large role in creating. So, the bots were artificially intelligent assistants. Nursing was just one of the many occupations they bolstered.
All in all, fancy rooms for a fancy price tag. To be fair, the care provided at any BioCorp facility was second to none, which was why Arthur was still alive three years after his expiry date—a bitter joke the two had. Three unexpected years. Full of testing and medical trials for BioCorps experiments.
“So, Arthur, how’re you feeling today?”
“Same ol’ same Har. They’ll do me in sooner than the disease if they keep drawing blood. Damn leeches the lot of ‘em.”
They shared a chuckle at that, then lapsed into a moment of companionable silence. Sometimes, sharing a quiet moment was the entirety of Harlyk's visits, but that was okay. It was therapeutic for them both.
“They upgraded the food. Instead of pudding cups, they give us mousse now. Progress, right?”
Arthur waggled his eyebrows.
“The forefront of innovation.”
Harlyk replied, quoting BioCorp's generic slogan.
“When you get to be as old as me—”
It was one of his favourite lines to use.
“You’re only a few years older, Arthur.”
Harlyk reminded the man. Yet he did look far older. Illness and years of treatment and tests eating away at him.
“When you’re as old as me you'll understand.”
“The significance of mousse versus pudding? If you say so. Well, my break’s over, best get back to it. See you tomorrow.”
“Thanks for the visit!”
Arthur cheerfully waved to Harlyk as he went back to work.
He made his way through the ward, poking his head into rooms here and there, saying a quick hello to those patients he had grown acquainted with.
Next, he stopped by the command centre. It wasn’t an actual command centre, but those who ran it ran it as such. The nurses were at their central station in the EOL ward. Each department had one. They were working on any number of tasks: programming medical bots with new patient care instructions, verifying charts, updating instructions, and submitting reports to the research departments—an especially big job in EOL.
Calling the medical assistants bots was truly a disservice. A term that had carried from purely mechanical and superior coded robots to something capable of thinking, even if only within a specific set of parameters, as far as Harlyk understood it. Every type of bot fell under the catch-all term—even those super genius biomech animal things they had discovered. Or were they made? A regular joe smow, like him, didn't understand the minutiae that made them different anyway.
“Morning, Harlyk.”
A nurse called out, tired but friendly nonetheless.
“It’s almost afternoon! Cherc, Kelvin.”
Harlyk strolled up to the desk, smiling at the two nurses looking at him. The rest were too busy to even acknowledge him. Of course, he wasn’t offended. He observed firsthand how tough their job was.
“Really, already? I’m almost off.”
The tired nurse, Cherc, sighed in relief. She had dark bags under her eyes. Frequently, Harlyk found her covering shifts for coworkers and volunteering to work holidays. Cherc was very dedicated to her job and good at it.
“Did you work another double? Everyone I’m coming across is practically dead on their feet lately.”
“We’ve all been working doubles! Everyone wants vacation time while the weather’s still nice. Problem is, the idiot department heads don’t check with each other before approving requests. That means if one department is short staffed everyone suffers because interdepartmental work is slowed down. If all departments are short staffed then everything comes to a standstill.”
The nurse threw her hands up and glowered uncharacteristically. Kelvin, the other nurse, nodded in agreement with Cherc.
“Dang, Cherc that’s tough.”
Harlyk could empathize. Staffing issues were not confined to the security department only.
“Enough about the woes of nurses. What can we do for you?”
She shook her hands as if to wave away her frustration.
“Just doing the rounds. Making sure there’s nothing to report or that I should check into.”
“We’re all good here.”
Kelvin reported.
“Good. Well, let me know if anything comes up. I best be getting on my way.”
Rounds resumed. White walls, some decorated with pop-y modern designs (especially in pediatrics), were shiny and spotless, constantly cleaned of stains and fingerprints. It was a menial job happily left for housekeeping robots—these were true robots, albeit very fancy ones.
The soft hum of medical equipment and the gentle beeps of various patient monitoring technologies provided a constant aural backdrop to his loop. He walked with care, trying not to get in the way of the medical personnel hurrying around. A lesson he had learned in his earlier years.
Harlyk's experiences in the other departments he passed through were similar to EOL. He checked in at the nurse's station, said hi to several patients, and moved on. At lunchtime, he ate in the cafeteria. Free lunch was a benefit for BioCorp employees, and the food was pretty good. The staff cafeteria, where they employed actual chefs, was not the same place the patients' food came from, unfortunately for the patients.
After his hour break, he began the final leg of his rounds. Harlyk wasn’t the only security guard working, not by far. But there were many different departments requiring security. Guards rarely ran into each other unless multiple were stationed in an area or there was an incident. Even more guards electronically monitored each ward through things like sensors and cameras—to name the most basic of the tech available to them for surveillance. All sorts of different security measures were accessible to a place with the amount of funding BioCorp had.
The facility's futuristic architecture and sleek design created a visual spectacle that never failed to impress, no matter how many times he travelled the halls. There was no escaping the sterile antiseptic smell of the hospital, though. You’d think with all the fancy-dancy tech, they’d have devised an odour neutralizer for the place.
He was pondering the merits of such an invention—a neutralizer that actually worked—when he heard the chiming from his pocket, followed by an automated voice.
“Security requested in accident and emergency. Please route to 1st floor A&E.”
Harlyk changed direction as the message repeated two more times. He had no choice but to let it play through.
His work day ended far more eventful than it began. A patient was in a small examination room where muffled yelling could be heard through the glass windows. And a man could be seen accosting a medical bot. The few nurses gathered around gave Harlyk the rundown.
“An EMR brought him in. Found him piss drunk, passed out on the sidewalk. The transport must have woken him because he was brought in kicking and screaming. He has a cut on his leg that needs attention and his hand is all banged up.”
Thankfully, an emergency medical robot found the man before a regular EMT. The drunk man could do little damage to the bot.
“Thanks for the update. I’ll go talk to him.”
The exam room was a mess. The exam table paper was ripped apart. Cupboard were doors flung open, the contents inside strewn about. Oddly, the room still looked clean simply because of the sterile aesthetic of the space.
The inebriated man was screaming at the medical bot who was trying to sedate him. The bot ignored punches and items being thrown at it as it attempted to close in on the patient, but the man kept dodging the robot in some freak occurrence of drunken nimbleness. Harlyk had to admit the bot was being a tad aggressive.
As Harlyk closed the door behind him to prevent the man from escaping into the rest of the hospital, the bot desisted its attempts at sedation. Instead, it parked up at its docking station and waited idly as Harlyk addressed the situation.
“Whoa there, friend. I'm Harlyk, hospital security. What seems to be the trouble?”
“I don't need any help! Just leave me alone!”
The man slurred, but his anger was put on the back burner as he squinted at the guard.
“Hey, I get it. We all have tough moments. But the nurses need to check you, make sure those injuries don’t get worse. And they’re just trying to do their job and make your life a little easier. Can we work together to make sure you get the care you need?”
“Care! I don't need anything.”
The patient grew frustrated, his temper on the rise again.
“I hear you. How about we sit down and chat for a bit? It might help you feel more comfortable, and the nurses can do their thing while we talk.”
“Fine, but I don't want anyone shooting any weird fluids and things into me.”
“Fair enough. What’s your name, friend?”
“Emmitt.”
Harlyk handed the intoxicated man some cold water, and he began settling down. Sometimes, going to the hospital was scary, even for adults. A little support went a long way.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m going to get the nurses to come back in now, Emmitt. If that’s alright?”
“Yeah, sure.”
The man muttered. All of the fight had left him as he talked to Harlyk. Now, he just sat on the exam table dejectedly.
Harlyk poked his head out the door.
“Nurse Pixlie, he’s ready for you now.”
The nurse, looking very determined, two orderlies, and a second medical bot filed into the exam room. Emmitt looked at the team of professionals apprehensively but made no move to fight or flee.
A protector security bot, backup should the security guard need some extra muscle, had also arrived on the scene and now patiently waited outside the room. If Harlyk gave the word, it would come running in to restrain the unruly patient. But it wasn't necessary. Emmitt spoke demurely with him after that. Recounting his woes that brought him to A&E in the first place—an unexpected break-up.
The security guard’s day ended there, in A&E, with the sad drunk man who just wanted to take the edge off his heartache but ended up with a smashed-up hand and a giant gash in his leg instead. After meeting Emmitt, Harlyk couldn’t help but feel blessed for his own stable relationship.
He scanned his badge at the time clock as he made his way out of BioCorp. The weather was brisk on the short trek to the CLR, the setting sun taking some of its warmth with it but painting a beautiful scene of oranges and reds across the sky, a backdrop to the bustling city.
Maybe he should take Jess and Kace out for dinner tonight. They’d enjoy that. Harlyk smiled at the thought and took out his Insights, shooting off a quick message to his wife.