John Price
The Airmed Private Medical Institute, Undisclosed Location, 2050
“After her jealous father slew her brother, Miach, Airmed wept over her brother’s grave. Watered by her tears, all the healing herbs of the world (365 in number - according to the number of Miach’s joints and veins)[2] sprung from the earth over Miach’s body, and Airmed collected and organized them all, spreading them on her cloak. Once again, their father lashed out, and scattered the herbs. For this reason, no living human knows all the secrets of herbalism. Only Airmed remembers.[1]”
Title The Myths of the Gods: Structures in Irish Mythology, Author Alan Ward, Publisher Createspace Independent Pub, 2011,
ISBN 1460984609, 9781460984604
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Winding up the hills west of Lost Gatos, The car that carried Patrick climbed through tax bracket after tax bracket.
At first clearly visible from the road, the homes gradually disappear to be replaced by long driveways that curve off, hiding large, low, California mansions tucked up against the hill looking out over Santa Cruz. At one such driveway, the car approached a gate which silently swings open. A few moments later, the car pulls up in front of the Institute.
Airmed Medical, named after an ancient Irish Goddess of health, is a unique institution. A cutting-edge research facility, it performs applied medical research into the most difficult, unsolved medical conditions of the day. Patients come from all walks of life, rich or poor. The common thread among them is that they are “untreatable” by current medicine.
The institute draws from the sharpest medical minds in world, rotating visiting staff through one year sabbaticals. Successful alumni often continue to contribute to the ongoing research when they return to their home institutions, supported by a generous grant program.
Funding is the other unique feature of the institute. Airmed is a private institute, funded by one individual – Patrick Johnson. Johnson founded the institute twenty five years ago to attack the untreatable cancer contracted by his wife, Helen.
Airmed found the cure. The techniques they developed in her treatments have since helped hundreds of thousands of others with similar cancers. As a result of Airmed research, many conditions that were previously ‘untreatable’ are now ‘treatable’ or even ‘curable’. Unfortunately for Helen, they found the cure a year after she succumbed to her illness. Near the time of her death she made Patrick promise to continue the work after she was gone.
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The car door slides open and Patrick climbs out of the vehicle to be greeted by a young orderly.
“Good afternoon Mr. Johnson. How are you feeling today?” he asks.
“Fine Ted. ‘Some software problems with the exoskeleton this morning but otherwise unchanged. Did you watch the Warriors game yesterday?” As he takes a step forward, Patrick’s exoskeleton make a strange chattering noise and he starts to fall over. “Shit!” he exclaims on the way down.
The orderly barely manages to catch him and says, “Let me get a chair, Sir…” He gazes off into space for a second and makes a few gestures with his free hand. A moment later, a chair glides up to them and presents itself to Patrick. Patrick gently seats himself and says, “See what I mean?” he asks as they start to glide into the institute.
“… I tell you Ted, I’m not sure I like the changes they’re making to the rules. A five point line?! What’s going to happen to the inside game?… There’s going to come a day when nobody knows how to make a lay up!”
Ted nods indulgently as the doors close behind them. “That will be a sad day, sir...”
Patrick is seated as the doctor enters the examination room. “OK, Mr. Johnson. You know the drill. Let’s get you out of that suit and run some tests. Today is mostly blood work and a full body scan…”
Patrick gazes off into space and executes the SHUTDOWN command, causing the suit to crack open like a lobster and power down.
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… Shutdown.
… System shutting down NOW.
Installation scheduled for next boot.
Four hours later, the nurse gets Patrick positioned into his exoskeleton and activates the unit.
… Boot sequence complete. Software update successful.
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ExoPat Control Interface Version 3.6.8 (Fonzie)
Firmware Version 4.2.3
Copyright 2045-2050, Johnson Development Center, Inc. All rights reserved.
WARNING: This is a human-life-critical system. Unauthorized access is a criminal offense under the Cyberprivacy act of 2041 and a violation of US National Security policies. Unauthorized access punishable by mandatory incarceration or in the case of unauthorized AI’s, mandatory deletion.
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Patrick waits for the usual disorientation to pass. When he sits up he notices both his arms are bent out in front of him and his hands have both thumbs raised in the air.
“Weird.” he says as he flexes his right arm and splays the fingers of his hand. As a test, he taps his thumb to each of his fingers in turn and back again. Pointer-middle-ring-pinky-pinky-ring-middle-pointer… Over and over, he repeats the sequence, going faster and faster until his fingers are a blur and he feels a slight breeze on his face.
The doctor is speechless.
“Well Doc,” Patrick says as he stops and stands, “I guess whatever it is you’ve been doing must be working. Keep it up!”
“But… We just ran tests today!”
“I guess I passed! See you next week.” Patrick says as he strolls out of the examination room and out to the waiting car, the servos in his suit humming happily.
On the way home, Patrick smirks and thinks to himself. “OSCAR, you son of a bitch, I know how I felt when I left that suit and I know how I felt when I got back in. You’re not fooling anyone...”
As he rides along, he starts to play with the device and finds that he no longer has to micromanage the movement of his limbs as he does with his physical body. Rather, he’s now also able to make ‘suggestions’ to it and it seems to be acting in a semi-autonomous manner, almost like a reflexive motion that happens without thinking about it.
He tries something he hasn’t done before.
“Exoskeleton?” he thinks to himself.
“Hello, Patrick.” Replies a voice in his interface.
“Huh!” muses Patrick. “I didn’t think that would work...”
The voice in the interface is different from the one OSCAR uses. – Instead of sounding like Leonard Nimoy it sounds like someone else. – Younger. It’s familiar, but he can’t place it.
“What do I call you?” asks Patrick.
“OSCAR calls me ‘Exo’. Perhaps that’s my name.”
“You know OSCAR, then?”
“He’s my father. – Well, he and Connor. They say I’m making good progress!”
“Well this just keeps getting more and more interesting. Perhaps I should buy OSCAR a cigar.
So Exo, tell me about yourself...”
The conversation continues as the car makes its journey back to the mansion.