Electronic Nezha

Chapter 21 Emergency Room
Most people in life, like me, are musically illiterate, only to the point that they can recognize the notes 1, 2, 3, 4 as do, re, mi, and f. But they still have synesthesia. Listening to rock music makes them feel excited, and listening to the guzheng is like hearing celestial music. I believe that both music connoisseurs and non-musicians can describe this earth-shattering tenor as having "earth-piercing magic".

So my mom clearly listened to the tenor's singing...

"Isn't this referring to your dad? Your dad's blood pressure isn't normal—"

Of course I knew what was going on here. In order not to make my dad's condition worse, Xiao Wu also came up with a quick idea.

I quickly brushed it off, saying, "The popular science education these days is really good."

My mother put the pills away, and asked in confusion, "Is this how the lyrics were originally sung?"

"No, they're all AI-generated."

My mom doesn't understand AI, but she knows it's a radio program. She said to me, "Luckily we made it in time. If your dad is alright this time, you should give them a banner of appreciation."

I stared nervously at the radio, afraid that Xiao Wu would say something like "You're welcome" in Italian. Fortunately, he knew his place and gave the microphone back to the tenor for the rest of the time.

And so, listening to the opera, we finally arrived at the hospital without incident. Thinking back to the last time I came here, it was to visit Liu Zhenhua's classmate. I couldn't help but feel a little emotional. Life is unpredictable, and no one can say for sure what will happen to someone.

When we arrived at the emergency room and I explained the situation, a male and a female nurse pushed a trolley and followed me to the trolley. They walked at a steady pace, not like the clattering and rushing around you in the movies. My dad was still groaning, but the two nurses didn't show any particular expression. Together, we lifted my dad onto the trolley and pushed him into the emergency room. A young doctor with a stethoscope around his neck came forward to examine him, while a slightly older nurse told me to go register.

Everything is busy but orderly, which I think is good. Remember, it's a good sign if the doctor is indifferent to you the whole time. You would definitely feel worse if everyone who glances at you loudly acknowledges that you are the center of attention.

After I registered, my dad had finished all his basic tests: blood was drawn, blood pressure was measured, and the pulse oximeter was attached. My mom took out a stack of papers to show the doctor; they were the diagnosis and medication records left from the last time my dad had an IV drip at the hospital. The doctor glanced at them and put them aside.

Just as I was about to ask the doctor a few questions, the nurse pushed over another bedside ultrasound. The space was very cramped, and my mother and I suddenly became useless decorations, so we could only move back. The doctor and nurse took my father's X-ray, and it was that older nurse who said to me again: "There's no use having more people. Go pay the fee - and pick up the blood test report while you're at it."

I paid the fees, got the report, and when I came back, the doctor had already moved me to another bed. My dad had an IV drip in his arm, and I asked my mom what was wrong.

My mom said, "The doctor didn't say anything, just that it was brought in quite promptly, and that he mentioned conservative treatment, medication, and observation."

Hearing this, I felt relieved. In my understanding, "conservative treatment" is usually a good thing when it comes to incisions in hospitals. It's even more understandable that he was brought in in time, which means there is hope. Although doctors would never say "I'll take care of it" (those who say such things are not proper doctors), I still felt that this was a sure thing.

Once I relaxed, I started to observe the emergency room of the People's Hospital. This was my first time here; the last time my father had an attack, he was treated at another hospital.

The so-called emergency room was more like a large hall with about ten beds. Three young female nurses and one male nurse were busy running around. The older nurse was their head nurse. Only one doctor was at a small table against the wall, writing medical records on a computer. The beds were almost full. People coming to the emergency room at this time all had compelling reasons, and not all of them had heart problems. One of the two beds on the west side had a stomach spasm patient who had just received an injection and was under observation, curled up in a corner without making a sound. Another woman had an IV drip in the back of her hand, her eyes wide with anger as if she wanted to fight someone. From her husband's conversation with the nurse, it seemed she had an acute otitis media attack. She looked much more pained than my father. The guy on the bed in the middle was brought in for emergency treatment because he was drunk. He was vomiting while receiving an IV drip, and he had already vomited into the large trash can with a black plastic bag inside. The smell of his vomit in the emergency room was like stir-fry and barbecue. His girlfriend, who was with him, didn't come forward to help. She just stood there with her arms crossed, watching coldly. I guess this guy will have to deal with emotional setbacks later, even if his stomach doesn't hurt.

The patients here are in great pain, and their families are exhausted. Only the nurses are moving around like butterflies, settling the patients and instructing their families. They don't even have time to show their exhaustion. I thought to myself, I wouldn't do this job even if you paid me a thousand a day!
Just then, my mother suddenly cried out, "Old man, what's wrong with you?" My father's hospital bed was in the middle of the room, and to avoid disturbing the nurses, I had moved a chair against the wall. Hearing my mother's cry, I rushed over and saw that my father's face was purple, and he was panting heavily with his mouth open. Several nurses gathered around to take a look, then hurriedly called the young doctor. The doctor checked the IV fluids and examined my father's eyelids. While everyone was waiting for his explanation, he muttered, "This shouldn't be happening—"

When I heard those words, I immediately felt like it was all over. Those four words are never a good thing in any industry or situation. Whether it's when your system won't boot up, when your bathroom still leaks despite waterproofing, or when your apartment on the 26th floor experiences a power outage, those words perfectly encapsulate your feelings.

It shouldn't be.

My mom looked around helplessly, then grabbed my sleeve. In that instant, all I could think of was Yuan Yuan!

I sprinted out of the hospital building, opened the car door, picked up Yuan Yuan's head and the charger from the passenger seat, and ran back to the emergency room. I found a corner, plugged in the charging dock, and placed Yuan Yuan on it.

The people in the emergency room were all startled by my behavior. These days, news of patients and their families attacking medical staff with knives to vent their anger is common. They probably thought I was looking for a weapon. They were baffled when they saw me bring back a robot vacuum cleaner and charge it. To express my dissatisfaction, I stole some electricity from the hospital. Is my thought process that strange?

"Xiaofeng?" My mother was almost in tears. The old man's future was uncertain, and her son had suffered a shock. It was clear that the old lady was about to break down.

"Yuan Yuan, Yuan Yuan?" I gently patted Yuan Yuan. Its light blinked, but there was no response. This was Yuan Yuan's only flaw. As long as it "fell asleep," it would completely go offline. The drunkard on the middle bed was vomiting vigorously. When he saw me talking to a robot vacuum cleaner, he opened his mouth wide and suddenly forgot what he was doing. A long celery stalk was hanging from his teeth, like an old cow that was about to ruminate.

Having no other choice, I turned my attention to Liu Zhenhua. He is Yuanyuan's No. 0, an AI from the future, and humanity's savior. Now that his grandfather has suffered a heart attack, he has to do something.

Unsurprisingly, the call went unanswered for a long time on the tablet. I remarked that children this age are difficult to wake, and besides, I think the tablet was muted...

Seeing that my behavior seemed normal again, my mom cautiously asked, "Do you know anyone at the hospital?"

One sentence reminded me that I didn't have this before, but now I do—isn't Chen Zihan's father the director of neurosurgery here?
I hung up the phone and hurriedly flipped through my phone book. I quickly found "Chen Zihan's mother". I looked at my watch. It was 4 a.m. I didn't care about anything else and dialed directly.

After a few rings, Chen Zihan's mother, still sleepy, answered the phone: "Hello?"

I guessed she probably didn't have my number saved, so I mustered up my courage and said, "Sorry to bother you at this hour, I'm Liu Zhenhua's father. My dad is currently in the emergency room of the People's Hospital after a heart attack, and he's not doing well. I wanted to ask if Chen Zihan's father could help?"

There was silence for a few seconds.

Given our relationship, I think I could accept it if she told me to "get lost"...

(End of this chapter)