Dr. Marc hadn’t slept a wink since the child was born late last night. He looked at the frail body on life support in the ICU. Jumbled in sensors and drips, the child seemed perfectly normal. He stood besides Dr. Riely waiting for the test reports.
A nurse walked in and handed over a yellow envelope to Dr. Riely. She flipped it open and took out the test reports. A few minutes later Dr. Riely slid the reports back in the envelope and turned to face Dr. Marc. He knew the way doctors react when something is terminally wrong but still waited to hear it out as a parent in search of hope.
“I’m afraid Marc, we can’t save her. She’s suffering from a rare birth defect and even on life support, the chances of surviving are almost zero. I would give her a few weeks or maybe a couple of months,” Dr. Riely said in a soft, sad voice. She pressed his arm lightly to express her sympathy before stretching out the envelope.
A shaken Dr. Marc took the envelope. He knew the curse of being in the same profession. There were no false hopes to hang on to. Holding back tears, he looked at Dr. Riely for something, but she shook her head and left the ICU.
Dr. Marc clinched the envelope in grief and disbelief. He stared at his kid on life support. An hour back he had told his wife in the recovery room that their daughter was beautiful and fine. What would he tell her now?
Days passed. His wife had given up all hope and shut the outside world. She no longer came to see their daughter. It was too painful for her to see the lifeless child. Except for Dr. Marc, everyone else had written her off.
For a week Dr. Marc wasn’t seen hanging around the ICU. He was busy in his lab and all his appointments had been postponed. Sometimes he would visit the ICU for a short duration. On every visit he silently stood near his daughter and whispered to her, “Hang in there my little girl. Don’t leave me.”
It was half past six in the evening. Dr. Marc had finished simulating a test on the PRO-ZL-V. It was a fifth generation prosthetic analysis and design machine. It created a three dimensional holographic projection of a patient’s scan. This was then used to design and build organic prostheses. Once a prosthesis had been built, it could run a simulation to test their compatibility and stability.
That’s when Mr. Clive walked in. Dr. Marc wasn’t surprised to see the chief executive in the lab.
“You are not answering my calls. I have been trying to talk to you,” said Clive, approaching the doctor.
“I was expecting a visit,” said Marc. The last time Clive had met him, was to share sympathy for his dying daughter.
“I wanted to give you enough time to recoup. You didn’t even take leave as I had advised. We all are here with you but you have to stop burning yourself like this.”
Dr. Marc remained silent.
“What exactly are you trying to do here? I didn’t say anything when you forcefully took her for scanning to this lab. She could have died. Now I am hearing other things you are planning to do,” demanded Clive.
“You can’t expect me to do nothing while my child fights for life.” Marc shot back.
“But acting irrationally isn’t going to help her in anyway.”
“Irrationally! Come here. I will show you.” Marc literally pulled Clive along, towards the PRO-ZL-V. He turned it on to show the results of his last simulation.
Clive gasped as he saw the 3D projection. “What are you proposing to do?”
“Her neuro-scans are excellent and her brain is as healthy as any other newborn’s. The disorder starts with her motor nerves. I scanned all the nodal nerves with the PRO-ZL-V.”
“The machine you use to treat those with physical disabilities?” asked Clive.
“Yes. It scans and finds the damaged nodal nerves. After designing, the organic prostheses are implanted and linked with the nervous system.”
“But this has never been tried on children below 10 and that too in a limited way. Here you are talking of replacing all the limbs and altering almost 30% of her body structure. It won’t work.”
Dr. Marc uncovered an incubator and motioned Clive to take a look. Under the glass were tiny limbs identical to the holographic image. Clive was speechless.
“They are fitted with artificial intelligence circuitry that monitors and controls their stability and growth. The bones are made of high density carbon fibre that can be made to stretch naturally as the person ages. The joints are digitally controlled and signals are exchanged with the nervous system to facilitate movement. These are covered with real skin and tissues,” explained Dr. Marc.
“She’s too small for this kind of a system. I can’t let you do it,” said Clive, coming to senses.
“What other option do I have besides watch her die.”
“But if it doesn’t work out. We will be tried for killing a child.”
“I know the odds are stacked against us. I will take complete blame if things go wrong. All you need to do is let me take her to my lab. You can say I threatened you or whatever you want in your defence,” pleaded Marc.
“What you are asking me to do isn’t right. Why don’t you just let it go and accept it as fate?” Clive shook his head.
“I don’t accept fate without trying. Look, to you she’s already as good as dead. To me she’s surviving and I have to help her live. Any moment could be her last. If I can give it a shot and try save her…”
“But it’s ethically wrong.” Clive interrupted.
“Don’t tell me that. We both have been in this profession far too long. Ethical is what stands on the right side of law and rules are bent to be ethically right,” countered Dr. Marc. “It’s my child.”
“And you want to experiment on her?”
“It’s better than taking her to the grave,” Marc reasoned.
“What about your wife? Have you told her what you plan to do?” asked Clive.
“I thought about it but changed my mind. She wouldn’t understand.”
“Or are you afraid she would never allow you to experiment on her daughter.”
“Yes, I am afraid and I am afraid of so many other things that could go wrong. But I have to try and save her if I can. How can I not try while I can. I will never be able to live with it.” Marc stared at Clive.
The long hard stare was interrupted by the buzz of a small intercom attached to Dr. Marc’s lab coat. Dr. Marc punched on it to receive the call.
“Dr. Marc! Your child has suffered a concussion and her vital signs have dropped. Please hurry.” There was panic in Dr. Riely’s voice.
“I will be there. Just make her hold on,” said Marc cutting off. He looked pleadingly at Clive.
“I would have never agreed to this had you not been a good friend, an excellent doctor and father of a dying child,” said Clive.
“Thanks Clive, I owe you a life.” Marc shouted to his assistant, “Assemble the team. We are going in for an emergency procedure right now.”
Before Marc dashed out to get his daughter, Clive warned, “And Remember, whether you fail or succeed at this, not a word gets out, ever.”
Marc nodded to his friend. He knew the real battle was starting right now. While he would be fitting and integrating the prostheses, a team of doctors besides an anaesthetic, cardiologist, neurologist and plastic surgeon would be required to perform the operation. Not to mention the constant monitoring and tuning of the system till the child was old enough.
Dr. Marc entered the ICU. Dr. Riely was waiting. “She’s stable for now, but weak,” she said worriedly.
Marc walked over. The child was breathing erratically. Looking lovingly through the glass cover, he whispered softly, “Don’t worry Myra, I am here. It’s time for your birth.” The father and daughter had already bonded for life.