Chapter Text
Chanhee has always started his mornings with opening his television and watching the news. It was automated-- the projector would beam the program onto the empty wall on his living room the moment Chanhee stepped out of his bedroom. His coffee maker was also scheduled to start up, along with the heater in the bathroom to prep for his shower.
However, that morning, the projector didn't work. Chanhee stared at the blank wall for a full minute, not understanding what was going on, before giving up to manually look for the projector's remote control. He pressed the ON button, but nothing happened. Confused, Chanhee checked the other linked devices in his system-- his coffee maker was working fine, the shower heater was ready…
Maybe it's broken. I'll just get a new one after work today. Chanhee felt that something more was amiss, but he was running late with the five minutes he just wasted earlier. He sped through his morning routine, locked his apartment, and caught the public tram to the hospital.
The tram was unusually crowded, and people seemed to be more irritable than usual, but Chanhee was just itching to get to work because it was the day after the mechanical kidney transplant and utmost care must be provided to the kid.
He passed by the entrance of the hospital relatively fine, but the Emergency Room was bustling more than usual. Chanhee overheard that an accident had apparently happened when two express trains collided with each other, and the injured passengers were being wheeled off to the nearer hospitals.
"Busy day, it seems." Jacob greeted him at the reception in the pediatric ward. "Some kids reported being unable to sleep properly. I already called Doctor Lee about it, but it seems he's not feeling well either. I also received Juyeon's call that he can't report in because he was alsp sick."
"Something's wrong." Chanhee muttered, more to himself than as an actual reply to his co-worker. "Hey, hyung? Do you know where to get a new beam projector? The one I have at home kind of broke down."
Jacob frowned, tapping his ear. "Huh? What was that, Hee? I didn't hear you. My ear went static for a moment there."
Chanhee paused, hand hovering over the work tablet. "Nothing, hyung." He tried to keep his annoyance down when the tablet refused to connect to the LAN even when he repeatedly pressed reconnect. "What is wrong with today?"
"Oh yeah." His co-worker piped up again after a small bit of silence. "The night shift encountered some problems with the work tablets being unable to connect to the network, so they resorted to writing down the updates for the charts. They're over there, by the way."
"My tablet won't connect too." Chanhee sighed, giving up. He placed his work tablet back on the counter, reaching for the written charts. He was already dreading the day; being more accustomed to typing than writing at that point. Plus, the sheer amount of updates would guarantee him an aching hand by the end of his shift. "Wait, so if Juyeon isn't coming in today, who's going to fix this?"
"Kim Sunwoo. He usually does the coding for the Radiology department, but their network seems to be operating just fine so he's going to sub in for Juyeon here. He's dropping by in an hour, I think."
A ringing caught both of their attention and Chanhee quickly placed the telephone's receiver to his ear, thumb pressing 'answer' on the automated machine. "Pediatric Ward, this is Nurse Choi speaking."
"Hey, Chanhee!" It was Ji Changmin, a nurse from the Surgery Department. He was one of Chanhee's closest friends, another cyborg with only his cardiovascular and nervous systems staying unprogrammable. "I'm just calling to ask if the LAN in Pediatrics is also down? We've been having trouble connecting since last night."
"Yeah, the charts had to be written manually." Chanhee confirmed. "Does this mean all surgeries have to be postponed until the networks get fixed?"
"Dr. Kim said so."
Chanhee didn't know how to respond. For one, there was nothing life-threatening in the Pediatrics Ward for now, so there was no rush to do anything. However, the no-surgeries-until-LAN-is-fixed extends to the whole hospital and all its departments. Chanhee knew very well that the Dialysis Center must be operating all the time, along with the Intensive Care Unit and--
"Room 1109 is having a seizure." Jacob read out loud from the monitor, bringing Chanhee back from his thoughts. The older tried to stand up to attend to the emergency, only to collapse back on his chair with a surprised sound. "What the…? My leg isn't responding!"
"I'll take care of 1109." Chanhee dropped the phone, rushing to the thankfully nearby private room. He quickly unlocked the door and ran to the young boy's bedside, checking his vitals. Chanhee then moved the bedside mechanics away, turning the child on his side to prevent his airways from being restricted.
The patient was experiencing irregular heartbeats and high blood pressure, much to Chanhee's distress. There was a bottle of liquid Lamotrigine on the bedside table, but without his work tablet and charts, Chanhee had no idea how much the dose for a seizure is. He wanted to yell out for Jacob to check, but given the emergency of the situation, Chanhee decided to screw it and uncapped the bottle.
"Point one milliliter to point seven." Chanhee reminded himself outloud of the suggested dose and injected the syringe containing the medicine into the IV drip, praying he was right.
Less than a minute later, the young patient was calmly blinking up at Chanhee, dilated eyes slowly refocusing on the nurse who just saved his life. "Hyung?"
"Hey, Baekso." Chanhee couldn't help the huge sigh of relief that left him. He sagged to his knees, holding the child's clammy hands reassuringly. "How are you feeling? Are you hurt anywhere?"
Baekso shook his head, but it was clear he was still terrified of what just happened. "Hyung, didn't Doctor Han say that I won't do that again? He said he'd fix me with the scary surgery last week. Did something go wrong?"
"I don't know, buddy." Chanhee hugged him, feeling exhausted as well. "I'll call and tell him what happened. Can you stay here while I message your parents? Or do you want to stay with us in the ward while in your wheelchair?"
Chanhee wheeled the boy out of his room and checked up on Jacob, who still was having trouble with how his metal legs were responding. Chanhee insisted that Jacob should wait for Sunwoo for help instead of rebooting his whole muscular system manually-- just in case something happens-- then excused himself to go to the bathroom while Jacob kept Baekso company.
Alone in the pristine, white room, Chanhee opened his phone and was immediately bombarded with news of failing machinery all over the world, not just in South Korea. Global officials and scientists assured the populace that it was a temporary bug in the software, it was nothing serious nor permanent.
Still, it was horrifying to Chanhee how engines failed mid-circulation and a commercial plane crashed as GPS malfunctioned while it was flying over the West Pacific. He remembered how two express trains had collided with each other earlier that day, how the Emergency Room and Trauma Department were overflowing.
Something was terribly wrong, and it didn't take a doctorate degree in programming to understand what was happening. Chanhee always had a nagging thought that one day, unexpectedly and inexplicably, The System™ would come crashing down in all its servers. Maybe by overheating. Something. Anything. Nothing was immune to error.
Chanhee would never have expected it to be happening right in front of his eyes. He would never publicly argue with the actual programmers on the news claiming the whole incident to be a bug, but Chanhee suspected that whatever was going on, it was only starting.
He found himself dialling a familiar number, staring at his pale complexion in the mirror. Chanhee just needed reassurance that he was wrong. He needed to hear that things will be fine.
"Hello? Chanhee?"
"Juyeon, hi." Chanhee breathed out a sigh of relief at the fact that Juyeon, though half-machine, was still fine. "Are you okay? Jacob-hyung said you're not feeling well."
Juyeon chuckled from the other line. "Mm, I'm very flattered by your concern, Chanhee. It's just a fever, nothing too serious. I just stayed at home so I can observe if my symptoms get worse."
"Right. That's good to hear."
"Hey, Chanhee…" Juyeon trailed off, sounding hesitant.
"Yeah?"
"Stay safe, alright? I watched the news about the things happening today and it's just… horrible. I mean-- okay, I'll be honest with you." Chanhee heard Juyeon take a deep, shaky breath. "I think the news is lying. Whatever is going on, with the plane crashes and train wrecks and other shit; it's not okay."
Chanhee almost collapsed with the assurance that he wasn't alone in his thoughts. Before he could say he agreed, though, Juyeon continued.
"Please promise me that you'll try to be as safe as you can be. I know there's no knowing what else will happen, but I really need you to be safe. Stay away from automated machines. Sharp objects. Other people too."
"Juyeon, you're kind of scaring me."
There was silence before Juyeon answered, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I just… you get off at five in the afternoon, right? I'll come get you. Please, let me. It's the only way I can be in peace."
In any other instance, Chanhee would have blushed. He would have stuttered and drowned himself in the sink because his emotions were eating him from the inside. But the genuine worry in Juyeon's voice kept him from doing so. It was as if Juyeon knew more than he was letting on, and Chanhee so desperately wanted to know as well.
"I'll wait for you before heading home, then."
"Thank you."
"Stay safe as well, Juyeon."