E. I. C. Insurance claim report

Client location: New Knoxville City

Facility: Saint West's affordable Care,

Room: 2598-2

Patient name: Redacted Per-request

Age: 158

Current Date: Wednesday, Oct 23rd, year 2198,

Reason for admission: Regenerative-age therapy.

Current status: Regenerative-age therapy, phase two of treatment.

Approval for 3rd stage treatment… REJECTED

Public reasoning for discontinuation of service: Redacted Per-request failed to update their personal information after a request was sent by the claims department, the customer satisfaction department also sent a survey earlier that week as well.

Both were mailed to his residence and went unacknowledged past the three-day grace period. For security reasons, the account was frozen until Redacted Per-request contacts EIC’s IT security department and files for a new password, username, and answers ten out of the twenty-five security questions. Then updates their personal information and completes the customer satisfaction survey.

Internal reasoning: Redacted Pre-request has a grandfathered life insurance policy with EIC, allowing for potentially indefinite regenerative treatments at far below market costs.

Having not promptly updated their personal information per-company policy, this has left a rare short-term gap in coverage.

With the policyholder going into phase two regenerative-therapy, any interruptions in treatment will be lethal due to their advanced age.

In the eventuality of their death, EIC will deduct the costs of his first two rounds of regenerative therapy from the expected life insurance payout.

With a sixteen precent legal fee for corrections and a three precent penalty for late payment on the remaining balance.

Expected interference from family is negligible due to loss of contact, short time frame, legal fees and limited knowledge of the account's value.

This is a rare opportunity that will ensure we meet are profit margins for the next quarter, while also removing a major long-term expense.

Estimated date of collection, Thursday, Oct 24th, Year 2198.

Saint West’s affordable care

A frail old man laying in a well-used hospital bed sleeps soundly to the tune of Midnight LoFi.

Both bed and patient having seen better days, the two of them being well-past their primes.

The hospital bed, having seen its fair share of patients, had slowly over the years developed its own personality, each of its occupants leaving behind their mark.

The reclaimed Bio-synthetic plastics that made up the railing had discolored from years of exposure to UV lights and industrial disinfectants. Which also softened the material allowing patients to leave their mark in a more literal manner.

Scrimshawed across the inner panels of the safety railing, you can feel the remnants of dozens of initials, names, and tags despite maintenance’s best efforts to sand them away.

The abrasive texture of the top rail was worn smooth in areas from where comforting hands embraced, and nervous grips tried to anchor themselves against deleterious diagnoses.

The center of the bed had a cheap pale-blue mattress, that gave off an unpleasantly sanitized plastic smell, made all the more noticeable, being given contrast by the scent of the linens.

Freshly washed, looking relatively white, having only a few patches of dried glue and imbued with the barest hint of spring flowers.

To be more accurate, the smell was the best approximation that the budget friendly all-in-one disinfecting, detergent, softener chemical could mimic. The generic floral scent number 9 did it’s best to cover up the all consuming stench of sterilized plastic and memory foam.

The bedsheets were tucked tight, giving much needed structure to the mattress, while also aiding in limiting the unpleasant smell caused by whatever sterilization method the administration deemed both cost-effective and sufficient for the task.

The room the bed sat in was smaller than most, made for isolation cases such as MRSA, Worm eye and BWIs. It's one of the few single person rooms in the entirety of Saint West's affordable care.

Spartan would be the best way to describe the small room, its walls are made of bare cement sealed with resin. The floors set with mismatched salvaged tiles, with a nearly solid grey ceiling save for two exposed florescent tubes humming away.

There wasn’t much in the way of furniture in the room, with the only example being a pile of poorly molded plastic playing pretend on the far wall, doing its best impression of a couch.

The sides and arm rests were colored and textured to look like wood, but it was obvious that it was made from melted recycled plastics. The cushions might as well have been nonexistent, seeming comfy at first glance, but the inner foam would deflate at the slightest bit of weight, failing to grant anything resembling comfort.

A small 24K Smart-flatscreen was mounted in the corner wall of the room, PBS Midnight LoFi softly playing, It being the only channel left on public TV that wasn’t just a constant stream of adds.

A large window made of transparent aluminum was level with the bed’s railing, giving a distant view of the sleepless city of New Knoxville.

Its streets and sidewalks were washed in the golden glow of endless streetlights, in this sea of soft light, storefronts sold everything from custom bio foods to the latest specialty refurbished implants. Crowds of people gathered around food venders, conversing about the latest celebrity gossip.

Bars and Night clubs lit up dark alleyways with neon lights, from open signs, logos, to Show-girls dancing in display windows.

All of them playing every copyright-free remix legally possible, backdropped by the sound of the occasional bar fight.

High above the alleyways, holograms and semi-hard light projections prowled the upper reaches of skyscrapers. Taking the form of everything from mythical beasts, impossible light shows, to elaborately animated corporate mascots.

Crowning these glass monoliths, bright, blazing pillars of shifting light pierce the night sky.

At their centers, young-bloods, upstarts and scoundrels compete to be the next generation of societal elite.

The bars, dance-floors, private booths, and the finest of restaurants all combined to form a crucible of wealth, luxury, and ambition.

On the Outer ring, staring down into the flames, CEOs, executives, and political leaders scouted for potential aspirants, promising investments or, soon to be rivals.

Far below, near the outer edge of the city, old apartment-complex's welcomed honest workers home for some well-deserved rest after a long day’s work.

Around the dinner table, families shared the day's events, from the latest celebrity gossip and workplace drama to the most elaborate justification for an unannounced absence from school.

Approaching from the horizon on all sides, mag-trains raced towards the city, their poorly maintained conductive plates danced with thin electric veins.

Ionized super coolant gases leaked out of the tracks and mixed with industrial trace elements, creating bright multicolored waves, giving the illusion of a ship’s wake as the high-speed trains crossed the dark wastes.

A stretch of abandoned buildings, factories, and waste dumps that surrounded most of new Knoxville city. 

Like comets racing across the earth, shadows nipping at their tails, the mag-trains made double time to drop off their cargo and exhausted crews.

Back inside the hospital’s halls, you can hear the sounds of a busy graveyard shift readying its self for a long night.

A small platoon of tired nurses, doctors, and Techs begin the opening salvos of reports on the fight against the never-ending tide of patients and paperwork.

From the sounds of screaming patients, pleading calls for help, crying families and angry complaints, any hopes for a quiet night were swiftly dashed.

Tonight was going to be like any other, a war of attrition, a never ending grueling siege.

Thankfully, due to the room’s location, positive pressure setup and thick sealed walls, you couldn’t hear even a hint of the chaos outside.

All you could hear was the old flatscreen playing LoFi, soft lyrics whispered over a relaxing digital remixed beat, the artist singing about the late night comet express coming home.

Room 2598-2 was a favorite spot in the unit, thanks to the room’s semi-sound-proofing effects, working AC and the thick walls signal jamming, which gave a much-needed reprieve from the never-ending barrage of pages.

It was a rare island of calm in a raging sea, a safe port to gather one's self.

From the direction of the room’s entrance came A rhythmic knocking, followed by the squeaking of the heavy-duty isolation-door’s hinges.

A young woman’s voice came from the opening door, greeting the room's sole occupant.

"How are you feeling Gramps, anything interesting on the live stream tonight?" the nurse said as she casually entered the small room.

Walking towards the foot of the bed, She began to check the various I V bags, pumps and regenerative supplement monitors.

Taking her time to go through her check list, she also took the opportunity to catch her breath and gather herself while on the “island”, the nickname the staff gave the room.

Laying In the bed next to the window, illuminated by the nightly light show of the city, was a frail old man.

Having a messy crown of fine white hair on his head along with an equally maintained frizzy little beard on his chin.

He seemed to be of mixed Irish and Pacific Islander descent, with dull green eyes, slightly tanned skin, a strong jaw and stocky over all build.

Taking one's time to fully examine the antique sitting in the bed, you’d find the remnants of a once impressive physique.

Lean muscles hid underneath drapes of loose, liver spotted skin which covered both arms and legs.

Once strong, deft, well calloused hands that could have easily split an apple in two or crack a coconut in one blow.

It had weakened and softened over the long years and now constantly shook under their own weight. Yet, they still proudly displayed a vast tapestry of burns and scars earned over the course of a long, hard life.

A broad chest and shoulders were obscured by a slouched, slightly hunched posture caused by a long worn out back.

This thin-skinned, hunched back, bare framed body is all that remains of a once hale, filled-out, hard-worked, and powerful physique.

Being clothed in the standard, sometimes unfortunately revealing, forest-green hospital gown given to every patient Upon admission only added to the man's senile appearance.

Strangely, this particular patient had a notable addition to the standard uniform of green and blue.

Draped over his shoulders, seeming to be embracing the elderly man, was a dingy-yellow, heavily patched-up workman’s jacket, the site of which, while unusual, somehow felt perfectly natural, as if the garment were as much a part of the patient as an arm or leg would be.

Thick sheets of Carbon-fiber infused Kevlar colored a bright yellow constituted the outer layer.

The inner liner was made with a blend of artificial golden orb weaver silk and polyester, sown in with a double stitched quilted pattern.

When it was new, the jacket was at the cutting edge of a new era of synthetic materials' science, a treasure any tradesmen would be proud to dawn.

Nowadays it was an antique barely meeting modern safety standards, lacking the new programmable fiber tech, a recent development in clothing.

Most people would just see that, an old, worn-out, outdated jacket lacking modern necessities and write it off as a hand-me down or collectable at most.

Yet again, an observant individual would discover something far more profound about this particular jacket.

On the right shoulder, running down almost to the elbow, was a forest of patches and emblems, each one unique in size, shape, material and color.

Some represented companies long bought out, others far-flung nations, even a few from inter solar work-crews and the first independent spacer communities.

Every patch big or small was associated with either a major event in recent history, rare achievement or limited production run.

Historians and collectors would be frothing at the mouth to get their hands on this collection of mementos, and even more so on the one currently wearing it! Seeing as the occupant of this little historical treasure was a first-hand witness, and at times even an active participant in many of those major events.

Along the back and both sleeves of this historical treasure, thick, scar - like stitches decorated the garment.

Each one represented a close call, from an orbital bar turned knife-fight, to an encounter with an escaped chimp who had a love of swinging sharp objects. 

Every last one of them told a story of an unlikely series of unfortunate yet at times hilarious events.

Every addition made, from the shiniest award to the deepest laceration was worn down from decades of weathering and abrasion, slowly being incorporated into the overall aesthetic of the whole. Which gave off an air of years gone by, battles fought, lessons learned, an enduring spirit of readiness.

The reflections on the sheets and thin blankets, that constantly danced from the light pollution of new Knoxville, slowly began to stir.

Sitting up a bit more with no small amount of effort, the old man turned to greet his caretaker.

"As well an Old man can be staring at death’s door, how about you Reyna? I heard Andrew’s next door was giving you some trouble. Something about him thinking he was back in the Re-gen wars, or was it the Three kings conflict?" He replied with a smile.

Sighing, the Nurse replied, "Re-gen, I think, he kept trying to give a speech about storming some office building like it was the castle of doom."

Taking a moment to remember her middle school history class, she went on, "I think we learned about that in class while I was in middle school. What was the fighting about again? Something about bribes in the form of medicine or gangs taking power?"

She said while checking on some annoyingly beeping vitals reader.

Chuckling while staring at the bags of regenerative IVs currently mainlined into his fore arm, he answered. "Yes, the Re-gen War is what that old cog was babbling about.

It was a conflict that began in old DC, It came to light that politicians took bribes in the form of life extension therapies from BRICS.

In exchange, they made policies that weakened the US and her allies. It started a three-month-long war that destroyed the old capital along with two of the largest political parties at the time.

Ending two centuries of political monopoly and releasing a flood of classified documents that made numerous conspiracy-nuts look sane." 

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

With a sigh, the old man went on." We lost the original constitution along with most of the countries historical artifacts due to the rioters, now turned rebels, getting out of control in the first week.

They started setting fire to the capital, first to go up was the library of congress followed by the Smithsonian, finally ending with PRISM HQ."

Turning his head from the window with a grin, he added." They also lost a lot of tax records, specifically for anyone under the top five precent."

Reyna slowly looked up from her work, eyeing the Old Crow."

Really now, in social studies, we learned that the great tax break was meant as a gesture of good will from the new Reformed Union Party to the nation following the war's end.

Moreover, didn't some international debts get "forgiven" as well?"

Sitting back in his bed, doing his best to look as innocent as a newborn in the NICU, he replied." Ah yes, that is definitely one way to interpret the events of that terrible war… I, for one, was definitely not involved."

With a giggle, Reyna started walking over to the vacuum tube panel. “Your Kids must have had some remarkable bedtime stories.”

His smile broke for just a split second, something painful flashing across his features so fast his caretaker hadn’t noticed. He replied, “Sorry to say I never had kids, been moving around all my life chasing that pay-raise.

Every two-years, that’s what everyone preached, every two-year I had to change jobs, find something better, higher pay, Always be lookin for greener grass.

What those hustlers and business gurus forgot to mention was that eventually you’d run out of greener pastures.”

Shaking his head, he continued, “I didn’t realize that I had made myself a nomad until I found myself in my fifties with no family, close friends, pets, or any real assets like a house.

I lived on the move, going from posting to listing, from state to state until I started leaving the country, hell I left the planet for nearly three decades.

Before I knew it, I got old, couldn’t keep up with the trends, my nights hitting the lobbies were behind me; I just got too weak to set down roots.”

Reyna went still for a moment, the old man’s words struck a cord, causing her to reflect on her situation a little.

After taking a moment to regain her composure, she asked“Well, do you have any other family?”

Brightening again, he replied “I do, in fact, I have an older sister who had a few kids of her own. I remember when I used to send them souvenirs whenever I was on an “adventure” meaning I got a new job and had to move again for work. They loved it when their crazy uncle went on a new trip.”

Muttering silently under his breath, he finished with. “They’re all grown up now, without Sis bugging them to keep an eye on their crazy uncle, they mostly forgot about me. I wonder if they even know that I’m still alive?”

Not hearing the last few words her charge said, too focused on checking and updating the patient-logs.

She began to say, "I'd honestly like to hear mor-", but was cut off when the tubing system's suction abruptly died and sounded a harsh negative.

Displayed on the small monitor in large red letters, REQUEST DENIED, followed by a random error code glowing coldly on the small low rez screen.

Eyes widening, she tried the order again, then again, after a third time she finally tried using an emergency medical request code, a last resort used incases of system malfunction.

Seeing the REQUEST DENIED notification again, despite using the EMR code, her gaze moved over to the nearly completed phase 2 regenerative IV bag, a little hint of panic creeping into her voice. "What? No, no, that can't be right!”

Turning towards the bed to address her patient while also sending out a personal text at the same time, she said, “wait right here, I have to go check on something real quick. I’ll be back soon.”

She walked over to the heavy-duty door, swung it open as easily you would do a cabinet and left the room, walking down the halls with purpose.

"Don’t worry, I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon!” He called out after the young nurse.

“Uh, I wonder what that was about?” He thought, watching the nurse rush out of the room.

After a moment of pondering the young nurse's quick exit, he turned his gaze back to the large window and its nightly light show.

His conversation earlier about the remnants of his family made him wonder how things could have been so different.

Closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing, he let that train of thought pass him by.“There was no changing the past, now the future on the other hand, that was something you could have a say in.” Mentally chiding himself.

With that, the old man settled himself in his jacket and fell back into sleep's welcoming embrace.

Concerns of the waking realm, gave way to that of the abstract realm of dreams.

In here the old man wandered through a reflection of the sleepless city, and the lives of its myriad inhabitants.

Tired men and women road comets made of chrome and thunder over an endless abyssal sea, their passing creating waves of colorful shifting lights that warded off the inky abyss below.

Approaching their destination, they were greeted by a forest of glass monoliths, the massive spires sneered at the lowly workers who dared hold their heads high.

Gazing up from the spires base far above, you’d catch a glimpse of the outer reaches of the never-ending games of Ambition.

Here above the clouds, larger than life creatures danced among a maze of logos and used the glass of the spires to preen themselves to dazzle the crowds below.

Though not even the most dazzling, eldest or elaborate of their number dare venture to the top of the spires.

That was the domain of the ruling class, it was where they sent there foolish, meek, and naive to be fed to the flames.

To the few whose metal was tested and not found wanting, they were taken in by their elders to be further refined and forged into the next pieces of the great game.

Those who broke or failed to rise, they were cast back down to the sodden and forsaken earth, their wings hacked from their backs, and their throats unceremoniously slit.

They fell amongst the teeming masses of weary souls, trampled under foot, and made no different from the rest to the eyes above.

Far off In the distance, away from the dank city streets, sterile light illuminated a monument to man and his struggle against his mortality.

In its halls, souls from every corner of the sleepless city journeyed here for one purpose, to be renewed or, failing that, fade into that final night in peace.

Sitting on the moon, the elder looked down at the gathering of light and saw his-own.

It was weakly flickering in a nearly forgotten corner of the massive complex.

Alone, unlike all the others, he could tell it was growing stronger with time, that after it’s treatment he would endure for another century or two.

While sitting in the once emptiness of space, a stray thought softly popped into existence.

“When I get out of here I should do something more with my life, I’ve worked enough, gave up enough, I allowed myself to miss-out on many of life’s joys.

No more, I am going to live dam-it! I think Lady Belinda’s has a few troubled youths in need of a warm bed, a home-cooked meal and a little guidance.”

Out of the dark in the direction of the wastes, something foul darted out from the abyss, making a be-line for the monument.

It was quick and methodical, first it began circumventing the sterile wards, silently slithered its way through the labyrinth of hallways, until finally, it found an unattended and weakened data port.

Picking the eighteen digit lock with ease, entering the patient data stacks, taking a few moments to sift through the sea of charts, it finally found its quarry.

Racing back through the halls hot on its prey’s scent, it found the forgotten corner, slid right underneath the gates, approached the flickering light and lashed out like a snake, and snuffed it out…

Staring helpless on the moon a brief thought crossed the watchers mind. “Oh that can’t be a good sign.” before retreating deeper into the fortress of dreams.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN DENIED!” Screamed Reyna at the billings department rep.

“I’m sorry Reyna, EIC has put a hold on the account!

Until your patient updates their personal information and completes the survey, they can’t get the final round of regenerative therapy.

Even if somehow I had the completed forms and sent them out now. It’ll take at least seven to ten business days for the information to be updated and the hold to be removed.” Explained Dupree.

“Dupree… He’s in phase two of regenerative therapy! If he was in his late twenties or early forties, then potentially he could hold out, but he’s a century and a half old” she tried to explain to the billing's rep.

“All I’m asking is you give him the treatment on the down low, just enough RGF3 to give him a chance, fuck I can pay for it! Maybe get the family to approve an emergency medical loan?!”

Reyna proposed, knowing damn well that the cost of even a micro dose is around fifth-teen-thousand dollars with a minimum of four- thousand dollars down payment.

She knew It would be barely enough to hold him over, at least until Dupree worked her magic.

Taking in a deep breath, and looking at her friend in the eyes, Dupree exhaled, and began to explain.

“Hospital policy states that staff cannot financially assist their patients, they're considered to be under emotional distress and not in their right minds.

The paperwork for an emergency loan could work, but that is only available to immediate family and his sister has dementia.

Legally, her children can act on her behalf and approve the loan, if they also pay an extra five-percent collateral on their part.

So it’ll take a day or two at least for approval if they are willing to stick their necks out for an estranged elderly-uncle.”

Falling back into the cheap office chair, the young nurse made one last ditch proposal.

Doing what she was going to suggest would cost her, at minimum, end her career as a nurse, hell she’ll be blacklisted from anything to do with the medical field.

All that would be worth it, saving that innocent old man would satisfy her conscience, let her sleep at night.

“We don’t even have a day… can we just give him the IV and cook the log entry times?”

“NO. The gene infuser has a black box coupled with an E.P.S.S.D. off site backup.

EIC will want that data when they notice a dead man suing them.

Along with the massive hospital bill for the first round of treatment, medical complications, late fees and a penalty for endangering the hospital’s reputation.”

Looking Reyna dead in the eyes, Dupree spelled it out for her.

“Reyna, they are trying to kill this man to take a chunk of his life insurance payout. If they don’t get his money, they will settle with making an example of Saint West’s, then destroy are career’s and maybe more if they’re feeling particularly vengeful!”

The fact someone was being murdered right in-front of her eyes and that there was nothing she could do about it nawed at a part of Dupree’s soul.

She continued. “The Most I can do is make sure they don’t get a cent by filing a poisoned intent claim. They made a mistake in leaving a data trail while gathering intel.”

Silently she thought, “They didn’t expect anyone to give a damn, they’re all soulless Bhosada!”

Reaching out, placing a hand on Reyna’s shoulder, she went on. “I sent the evidence to the family and alerted the media along with a few good law firms.

EIC will have one hell of a bloody nose and maybe even get sanctioned by the insurance board.”

Reyna was hunched over in her chair, head in hands, trying to compose herself.

After a few minutes, she looked up and said. “That’s all we can do, I fucking swear it feels like when you get a business major you sell your fucking soul.”

Cough, cough

“Present company excluded. Seriously, D you could have said no and left it at that.

Now at least we can make sure this doesn’t happen again or without the risk of a lot of pain on EIC’s part.”

A distant voice spoke softly into the dark. “Sir, please wake up.”

Something reluctantly stirred slightly and then went still.“Sir, we need to talk.”

The voice spoke again, a little louder, this time, followed by the sensation of light tapping.

“Sir, please wake up, we need to talk.” Came the doctor’s voice a little more clearly.

Slowly, the old man began waking up after having a rare pleasant dream. Groggily coming to his senses, he idly wondered if he somehow aged another ten years while he was napping.

He felt like he had run a marathon after a bender and then decided to pick a fight with Big Country.

Looking up, he could see a fellow antique still rocking the Holland hair cut… or the poor doctor was trying to at least.

Hair loss was still a widespread issue, somehow the causes seemed to evolve with the treatments.

“I’m sorry you’ve asked your name to be redacted, how would you like to be addressed, and may I ask why you erased your name? I’m asking just for my personal curiosity.” The doctor said.

He didn’t know why, but something wasn’t right.

Pretty sure HIPAA considers questions like that to be against the rules or in poor taste at a minimum.

But he wasn’t some punk who got bent out of shape from a personal question, so he gave the doctor the straightest answer he could.

“To make things easier… I move around a lot doc, the longest I’ve stayed in one place was three years and when I had to leave, plenty of people got hurt.

So now only my family knows my name, and most of them are either long since past or have forgotten me.

Figured there was no reason to keep it anymore.” Answered the old man.

After hearing the man’s reasoning for striking his name from the records, the Doctor had a complicated expression.

Starting with a sense of selfish relief, since he wouldn’t have to confront a grieving family and explain this horrid situation.

After that initial wave of relief, he decided he was going to be straight with his patient, it was the least he could do to make up for his failure.

“To be straight, EIC is trying to kill you for a thirty-seven percent cut of your insurance payout.

Despite are best efforts, they are stalling for time and due to the current regulations, and agreements there’s… Sir, I am sorry, at your age the chances of survival are null.”

He began to explain in detail the complications of only getting to phase two.

“The regenerative treatments come in three phases.

In phase one, we prep your system, cells have dormant genes for replication reactivated, CAS-9 prions increase their ability to uptake new genes, along with implementing a forced self-diagnostic, causing cells that are too old to mark themselves for termination.

Phase two is an injection of modified killer T & white blood cells, that start targeting older cells that have been marked in phase one.

The number of cells removed can be as high as five to ten percent of your total cell count.

Finally, in phase three, we give you an injection of artificial stem cells encoded with your DNA, RNA and mitochondrial DNA.

Along with those cells there is a cocktail of hormones, nutrients, APT supports and a CRISPR horizontal gene transfer system.

This allows the new cells to better integrate with the existing structure without causing too much stress on the body.”

Going through each step of the treatment process, the Doctor finally got to the point.

“Phase two is usually not much of an issue since it’s immediately followed by phase three, along with a massive boost to cellular replication from phase one, most of the destroyed older cells are quickly replaced.

However, due to your advance age, phase three is an absolute necessity, without it, we are looking at a full shut down in the next 12 hours…

I’m sorry, but there is nothing we can do.” Said the Doctor, who looked crest fallen.

Lifting his head to look his patient he was helpless to save in the eyes, he saw something unexpected.

A reassuring smile was spread across the old man’s face.

He took in a deep breath through his nose and began to speak in a sure and grateful tone.

“I didn’t live an honorable life nor a grand one, but it was wholly mine.

You all did your best to help a washed up Old man, but it’s time for me to go.

When I’m gone, make sure those printer humping, stock licking, money grubbing, snow snorting, asshole touting, BDSM loving, cock goblins pay for killing me in the most boring way possible!”

Both staffers were shocked by the old man’s acceptance of what was practically the announcement of his imminent death by insurance fraud, and the colorful yet accurate description of every corporate upper and middle manager.

The Old man was laughing at his lack of creativity when it came to cursing out the organization that was trying to, no, HAD, killed him.

He decided it was best to make his final request while he was still sucking air.

Dam-it, he was going to get more than one for this bull-shit!

Death by bureaucracy is no way to go!“I have a few final requests.

First, my sister is to know of none of this until I’m gone.

I left a video recording in the will for her, there's nothing she can do to stop this.

I don’t want her to think she failed to save her last living sibling.

Second, I want something to numb the pain, nothing that’ll have me zonked out of my mind too much.

I’d like some time to think, have a moment to reflect on my life and other philosophical stuff… Christ I really am dyin- no, no, no, that’s for later!

Finally, once you got everything you need from me and I got my medication, I don’t want anyone to come through that door after you leave.

I want to go alone and meet the reaper on my terms, once I am good and gone, I want twenty-five percent of my Life insurance payout to be used to go after EIC.

I want a full civil lawsuit and focus on causing them as much pain as possible!”

The Doctor was shocked, he was prepared for a long-winded tirade on how they were being murdered and that the medication to save them was right down the hall.

Not an acceptance of the situation with an, albeit colorful, condemnation of EIC, followed by a request for a courtroom style of vengeance.

Hell, the man’s head was clear enough to basically put a bounty out on EIC using the very money those bastards were trying to pry from his corpse.

The whole reason EIC wanted him dead was thanks to the policy's stupidly high-interest rate and generous terms.

Dupree was able to pull up the account's total, a hundred and fifty-eight years of dumping way more than half his massive salary.

Coupled with bonuses and hazard pay, and daily overtime brought the account to a staggering total.

“Theirs enough in that account to tear down and rebuild New Knoxville three times over, even after taxes!” Dupree exclaimed, fingers shaking on her keyboard.

Reyna was shocked, not only by the colorful description of EIC and the simplicity of the old man's requests, but by the fact the old man basically gave her and Dupree enough capital to start a decently sized law firm.

A law firm that could spend the next two decades solely focused not on profit, but revenge, getting back at the mega corps for all their crap.

Dupree always talked about wanting to be more than a paper pusher.

Plus, after talking to the nearly two century year old geezer, she saw herself following a similar path and decided it was time for a career change.

“Thank you… I promise Me and Dupree will make sure EIC gets stripped for parts, along with the board members.” The Doctor added with a mischievous grin.

“I’ll make sure you get the “good stuff” and that no one bothers you.” In an apologetic tone, he continued.

“I wish you luck on your journey, Sir, and I apologize you had to leave us under such circumstances.”

“It’s alright, none of this was your fault, Doc. Now, getting me the good stuff you promised will definitely make up for any real or perceived slight to my honor.” Replied the old crow, returning the doctor’s earlier grin.

After signing some last-minute paperwork releasing a portion of the insurance payout to R&D, the girl's soon to be law firm.

He also gave his testimony on relevant details, and agreed to file a class action lawsuit against E.I.C.

The good Doctor gave me my medication and man, he was not lying when he said it was the good stuff.

We said are final goodbyes, and it felt more like when I was leaving again for my first oil rig job or my first move out of the country.

Except this time, it wasn’t just a feeling of finality but a simple cold fact, he wouldn’t be coming back.

He turned his head to look out at the city. "I gotta admit, despite knowing what the city looks like up close, it really is something else from here.”

The dirty metro stations with their poorly maintained electrical hazards that passed for trains speeding through the wastes.

Those glass spires compensating for stuck up mile - high asshats with their brats playing games with peoples lives.

The crappy low-rent appartments sitting right above shady nightclubs.

The constant preening of back alley Synth-heads bragging about the latest piece of tech they had some Med school dropout shove up their asses.

From here though, so far, away that you could see the whole of it all, it became a complex living light show, A personal sendoff to a worn out old fool.

A sad look passed over his face, decades of regrets began to bear down on him.

Somehow this felt different from all the other times when he reflected on his life…

This felt more final.

It’s like the feeling of being able to tell you are at the last few chapters of a book just by feeling the weight of the finished pages.

After a few hours of watching the city lights preform their nightly routines, sorting through his thoughts and reminiscing about his old crews.

He slowly felt a growing weight on his shoulders, beginning to press down on him. “Was Freddie always this heavy? Damn must have patched and padded his ass too much!” Joked the Old man.

As his strength faded, his vision followed soon after, slowly beginning to lose focus.

A little while later, his hearing dulled and sitting upright was too much effort.

As he fell backwards into the bed, his old workman’s jacket caught him, softening his fall.

It was his constant companion throughout his many adventures, and it was determined to repay him for everything.

Unlike so many others, he didn’t throw it away, he argued with so many to keep it, when it was hurt he stitched it up, and over the long years he took it to so many incredible places.

So slowly, gently, it began to enclose the Old man’s frail form as he leaned back, embracing its old friend one last time.

Feeling his breathing become shallower, he knew he only had a few moments left and even though there was no one in the room, he thought he should say something.

Using his last breath, he wanted to speak his name one last time.

His name, something that no one had used since he was a teenager, starting his first job at Wallermans.

The name that was replaced by who knows how many ID codes, Nicknames, Titles, and epithets. He wanted to hear it one last time, desperately wanted to hold that last bit of himself that was truly his.

As he took in his last breath to speak, he managed to see through his blurry vision.

That the little red LED was lit up on the nanny cam.

He asked Reyna and the Doc to turn it off, so he knew damn well who was watching him.

EIC needed his name to access key accounts, details, along with the ability to fabricate believable evidence.

The bastards killed him, tried to steal his Life’s savings, tainted his final moments and now wanted to piss on the last chance he had at doing something right by others.

So as a final act of defiance, he did his best to stare whoever was on the other side of the camera in the eyes and said.

“I love you Sis, I’m sorry for being so selfish and disappearing when the family needed me most.

As for you sneak, write this in your report! Fuck you Antone, you heartless, self-important, backstabbing, Cum guzzling, Cheerio tonguing, INK HUFFER! YOU AND YOUR BOSSES WON’T BE GETTING A CENT FROM MY CORPSE, I’VE SEEN TO THAT!”

With that, the little red light petulantly winked out, and not long after, the Old crow passed on.

The knowledge that he managed to score at least one win against EIC gave him some last-minute closure before moving on.